


Muscle Memory

by Gort, lazyfish



Series: The Jeffersonian 'Verse [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (if you squint), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, BAMF Bobbi Morse, Background Isabelle Hartley/Victoria Hand, Crime Scenes, F/M, Gun Violence, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, background mackelena, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:08:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: FBI Special Agent Lance Hunter doesn’t solve murders anymore. At least, he doesn’t until his supervisor tells him the Jeffersonian Institutions forensic anthropology team needs his help. Hunter reluctantly agrees to return to his former position working with the squints - including his ex-partner (and ex-girlfriend) Bobbi Morse - when an FBI informant and his handler are found dead with signs pointing to an inside job. Trying to solve Donnie Gill’s murder leads them down a rabbit hole of secrets, corruption, and lies as the Jeffersonian team discovers more about Donnie’s employer, HYDRA. Catching a killer forces Bobbi and Hunter to confront the day that turned their lives upside-down, and accept that the way they feel for each other is always going to be more than muscle memory.A collaboration between Gort and Lazyfish.
Relationships: Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse
Series: The Jeffersonian 'Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135889
Comments: 130
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

Hunter’s eyes popped open and he gasped for air, groping for the firearm he kept next to the bed. His lungs burned and his heart pounded like he’d just run a marathon, but even as his hand connected with the butt of his gun, he knew it had just been a dream.

Another damned, hellacious dream. He sat up, shook away the clinging remnants of sleep, and concentrated on his breathing. Sweat rolled down his temple and he swiped angrily at it with his free hand. Everyone was fine. There were no bodies, no sightless eyes or golden hair in pools of blood. He’d had a beer with Idaho just last night, and Bobbi, last he heard, was doing better than ever.

That hurt, just like it always hurt to imagine what might have been, but not as much as the thought that he might fuck up again and get someone killed.

Slowly, he released the tight grip on his gun, setting it gently on his nightstand. It made a barely-audible thunk against the wood. In the grey morning light, he could just make out the shape of the dresser across the room, its surface nearly bare. There’d been photos there once, of smiling faces in happier times. 

Before Bob had walked away. 

He flung the sheets aside and stood, rubbing his sore jaw. He must have been grinding his teeth again. At least he’d have a little more time for his jog this morning and to work off some of his tension. He could probably get an extra mile in before the sun rose and added heat to the summer humidity. 

Hunter shuffled toward the dresser to grab a t-shirt, managing to avoid stubbing his toe on the end of the bed for once. It’d been months since he moved it away from the window, but his muscle memory still hadn’t caught up. Digging into the top drawer, his fingers connected with the tiny box that had migrated from the back, and the dull pain in his chest flared bright. Shoving the ring box deep into the recesses again, he pulled out a shirt and tugged it over his head.

Since his requested transfer to the analyst department had been granted, his morning runs were more remnant of old habits than a necessity, but he liked the routine. Just like being on the gun range was a sort of meditation, so were the rhythmic sounds of his feet hitting the pavement. The city was quiet just before dawn, holding its breath before another day began. Once upon a time he’d looked forward to seeing what the day would bring, but now it was just paper, paper and more paper with an occasional trip to the gym to break up the monotony. At least he couldn’t hurt anyone, tucked away in the bowels of the FBI building. There were no cases to screw up or people to let down.

And there was no reason to come into contact with Dr. Barbara Morse. 

He must have been crazy to think it would ever work in the first place. She was a brilliant scientist and he was just one of a thousand FBI agents trying to keep a little peace in the world. He’d been head over heels from the moment she’d turned up at a murder scene and started directing everyone like she’d been born to take charge. He’d stood there like an ass waiting for his instructions until he remembered it was his case and he could do whatever he wanted.

Well, whatever he wanted short of touching the body. The remains were Bob’s domain and she’d made damn sure they all knew it. He’d loved watching her work. The precision and care she took with every victim, no matter what state they were in, spoke volumes about her compassion. She was an incredible woman. He’d never deserved her. 

She’d found that out the hard way, during the last case they’d worked together—a straightforward homicide with an obvious suspect. Bob had wanted to be there for the arrest in case there was some evidence to collect and Hunter hadn’t objected. She’d been cleared for field work and he’d pegged the killer as one who’d rather run than fight.

He’d been very, very wrong.

They’d been outside the suspect’s house waiting for the warrant when Idaho had called for backup, and in one agonizing moment of hesitation his whole life had been exposed as a lie. Hunter hadn’t answered. He’d been so focused on Bob, on trying to figure out how to keep her out of harm’s way, that he’d failed to immediately respond to a call for help from his own best friend. He’d let them both down.

If he couldn’t protect the people he cared about, what good was he?

Yanking the t-shirt on over his head, he grabbed a pair of socks and headed for the bathroom, avoiding the mirror as he splashed water on his face and raked a hand through his hair. Everyone was fine, he repeated, gripping the edge of the sink basin and staring at the water swirling down the drain.

In the end, the suspect hadn’t made it any further than his own backyard, the one panicked shot he’d gotten off lodging harmlessly in a tree before Idaho had disarmed him. Hunter had arrived in time to assist with the arrest. Still, the split second of indecision haunted him.

Not long after it happened, in the dark of night, his arms wrapped tight around Bob and their legs tangled together, he’d confessed his failure. He couldn’t bear to see her face, but she’d needed to know. It was only fair, after he’d put her in harm’s way, that she heard the truth. He’d never deserved her. 

And she’d been right to leave.

He’d failed twice over. He just wished it didn’t hurt so damn much.

Twisting the faucet off, he scrubbed his face dry and headed for the front door. The hell of it was, even six months later, he couldn’t regret the hesitation. Just like he’d never regret loving her. She was the best and worst thing that had ever happened to him, and he wouldn’t change a thing.

\---

“Subject was approximately five feet, six inches,” Bobbi murmured for the benefit of the official record, pausing to make sure the computer registered her voice. The screen dutifully displayed her findings and she went back to her task, gently lifting one end of the femur.

Mack’s deep voice rumbled in the distance. She didn’t quite catch what he said, but it was followed by several mechanical beeps that somehow sounded just as annoyed as he did. He must have managed to navigate the new card scanning system on the periphery of her examination platform, because his heavy tread on the stairs wasn’t accompanied by an alarm.

“Hey.” He stopped on the other side of her examination table and rapped his knuckles on the edge like she might not have noticed all six foot plus of one of her oldest friends approaching.

“Hey,” Bobbi echoed, standing and rolling her shoulders to try and release the knots. Six months of sleeping alone and she still woke up on the edge of the mattress, making room for a man who was no longer there. Not in person, anyway. Her subconscious was an entirely different matter.

“You seen Daisy?”

“Not yet this morning.”

“Well, if you do, tell her I need her to translate all the nonsense words she stuck in the manual for my new soil analysis program.”

Bobbi suppressed a smile “Maybe if you stop insulting her hard work she’ll use smaller words.”

He scowled. “What the hell do we need all this upgrading for anyway?” Mack leaned across the table, crossing his arms and scanning the lab suspiciously. “I’m telling you, these machines are getting way too close to sentience for comfort.” 

The Jeffersonian was no slouch in the technological department, but Izzy had been on an upgrading spree the last few months. Bobbi suspected it had to do with the recent unveiling of a British sister-lab in London. While in theory it was great to know there were more places in the world investing in forensic science, Izzy never liked coming in second.

“I don’t think we’re a prime spot for a robot uprising,” Bobbi said wryly. “Unless Izzy had Fitz install lasers or something.”

“Don’t give her any ideas!”

She rolled her eyes. “Shouldn’t you be up to your eyeballs in cold cases, too?” Bobbi gestured at her table. They always had a backlog, and when Izzy was on a mission, looking busy was the best defense. Mack knew that as well as she did.

“I would be, if my equipment didn’t mutiny every time I touched it,” Mack groused. He peered at the bones on the table. “It’s pretty quiet lately, since…” he trailed off, his shoulders hunching guiltily.

Since she’d broken up with Hunter, she finished silently, dropping her eyes to the femur. It’d fallen apart so fast she’d barely had time to understand what was happening. One minute they’d been talking about marriage and the next, she’d been walking away to try and fix the mess she’d made of his career, and his life. The FBI still asked for consultations but working with Special Agent Lance Hunter had been fundamentally different. He didn’t treat the lab—or her—like a machine that existed to spit out facts about his cases.

They’d made a great team.

She missed that. Missed him. Bobbi gently prodded the bone with a finger, not trusting herself to pick it up without revealing her hands were trembling.

“I can’t believe you just jinxed us with the q-word,” Bobbi said lightly, letting Mack off the hook.

He didn’t know the whole story. No one did. They’d seen the arguing, though, and the fights Hunter had started over stupid, tiny things he knew would get a rise out of her. It wasn’t fair, but neither was the misguided guilt he harbored, so she did the only thing she could. No one had questioned her decision, even if she’d agonized over it.

That day everything changed wasn’t etched in her mind the way it clearly was Hunter’s, but she remembered enough. The stifling heat of the car, despite the windows being cracked, and Hunter fretting over the tightly shut curtains of the suspect’s house. She should have been armed, but most of her had been focused on preventing the possible destruction of evidence. A couple of transmissions had come in over the radio, but not the one Hunter was waiting for, telling him the warrant was ready. He’d been certain the guy was going to run.

He’d been right.

Somehow, though, he only focused on what he got wrong that day. The warrant finally came through and she’d hopped out of the SUV with Hunter, grateful for the breeze, when almost simultaneously Idaho’s voice barked out a warning over the radio. It was only a string of numbers, a code she hadn’t memorized, but Hunter’s entire demeanor changed. He lurched forward one step before spinning around and pushing her back toward the car, making her drop half her equipment in the process. She’d ended up back in the passenger seat and he’d pressed a gun into her hands before kissing her, hard. Then he’d slammed the door shut and sprinted off toward the house they’d been watching.

It was only later that she understood what had happened. The suspect had been armed and she, busy juggling her field kit and already mentally processing the scene, wasn’t. At least, not that Hunter could see, since her gun was still in her ankle holster. He’d done the only thing he could think of to remedy that, and then run headlong into danger without thinking of the consequences.

Leaving him had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but there’d been no other choice. Hunter loved his work, and he was damn good at it. She never, ever wanted to get in his way, or worse, get him killed. And she never wanted to put him in the position of choosing between her or his career. The world needed him more than she did.

No matter how much it hurt. 

“If I see Daisy,” Bobbi said, pointedly turning her attention back to her examination table, “I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”

Mack’s brow furrowed but he just nodded. “Thanks.” He headed for the stairs, making a face at the new card scanner before stopping halfway down the stairs. “You know if you need to talk...”

She attempted a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Sure. I’m just putting it out there.”

“I know.” Bobbi watched him retreat to his corner of the lab before she returned to the femur. “Wear on the lateral epicondyle,” she said, glancing at the nearby computer screen. Several paragraphs of gibberish filled the space between her last recorded finding and this one. So much for the program being attuned to her voice. Blowing out an exasperated breath, she stripped off one of her gloves and went to poke at the display.

“Fitz!” she called. There was no answer. “Fit-” She cut herself off as she turned, catching sight of Izzy striding across the lab, clearly on a mission.

“Dr. Morse is available,” Izzy said into her phone, holding up a finger when Bobbi gestured at the skeleton on her table and opened her mouth to protest. “Yes, I understand.” Her eyes slid to Bobbi.

“Who is it?” Bobbi mouthed. Izzy shook her head.

“Everyone will be standing by.” Izzy ended the call and tucked her phone into the pocket of her impeccably tailored blazer. Have you seen…ah, there’s Fitz.” Izzy waved at the new technician as he bounded up the examination area stairs. “Let’s talk in my office.”

Stripping off her gloves, Bobbi pointed at her computer. “It’s not just recording my findings like it’s supposed to,” she said to Fitz. “No gallivanting off to the new lab in London until it’s fixed.”

Fitz’s eyes went wide. “Of course not,” he said, shooting Izzy a nervous look.

“They have plenty of technicians,” Izzy groused. “I don’t know why they keep coming after mine.” 

“You know he’s the best,” Bobbi said, following Izzy down to the main floor and giving Fitz a reassuring smile. “From the sound of it, Dr. Simmons doesn’t settle for anything less.”

“Well, she’s going to have to wait a little longer,” Izzy waved them into her office and closed the door with a firm click. “Have a seat.” Dr. Isabelle Hartley might be the boss, but she was also one of Bobbi’s best friends, and her starkly professional expression made Bobbi’s blood run cold. Something bad had happened. Really bad.

“What’s going on?” Bobbi asked.

“We’ve got two bodies coming in. One’s FBI.” Izzy locked eyes with her. “No one we’ve worked with before.”

The world tilted sideways for a split second before the rest of Izzy’s words sank in. Of course it wasn’t Hunter, he was too damn stubborn to die. Bobbi nodded, not trusting her voice even after Izzy’s less-than-subtle reassurance.

“Who’s the other one?” Fitz asked, his face pale.

“Have a seat,” Izzy said, her voice gentling. The pit in Bobbi’s stomach got deeper.

Fitz shook his head, his fluffy curls at odds with the rigid set of his jaw. “Who?”

Izzy pressed her lips together for a moment before answering. “They’ve identified him as Donnie Gill.”

Fitz dropped his chin to his chest, his eyes closing, and Bobbi shot Izzy a questioning look. The name wasn’t one she recognized, but it was clear Fitz did.

“They asked me to inform you,” Izzy said. “What’s going on, Fitz?”

“I…” Fitz shook his head. “They were supposed to keep him safe,” he said, his voice hoarse. “They promised me they’d keep him safe. He was trying to help, trying to -” He sat down heavily in the chair. “What the hell happened?”

“They’re not giving me a lot of details.” Izzy frowned. “What can you tell us?”

“Donnie is…he was,” Fitz corrected, talking to the floor. “With HYDRA.”

“The military contractors?” Izzy asked. 

“Yeah, I guess...there was something going on? He wouldn’t tell me what, but the FBI promised they would keep him safe. No one knew. At least, no one was supposed to know.”

“He was an informant?” Bobbi shared a worried look with Izzy.

Fitz nodded.

“They’ve been compromised,” Izzy said softly. “No wonder they’re so tight-lipped.”

“Who are they sending?” Bobbi said, her heart in her throat. “Who called?”

“Vic,” Izzy said. “And I don’t know who’s been assigned.”

Taking a deep breath, Bobbi pushed away her feelings, concentrating on the facts. “We can’t trust them. Any of them.” She put a hand on the back of Fitz’s chair, crushing the fabric under her fingertips. “Except one.”

“I don’t think -” Izzy began.

“They need us for this case,” Bobbi said firmly. “And I need someone I can trust. It has to be Hunter.”

Izzy rubbed her temple. “And if he says no?” 

“He won’t,” Bobbi said confidently. He would do this. Probably in spite of her, but he’d be there, a strong solid presence she’d sorely missed. She trusted him with her life, even if he didn’t. One moment of human frailty overcoming his training didn’t change that. Guarding her heart was a trickier proposition, but she’d just have to keep things professional. It was possible.

God, she hoped it was possible.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hunter.”

He looked up from his work and tried not to do a double-take when he processed who was looming over his desk.

“What do you want, Vic?” She had been his supervisor before he had transferred and had a habit of popping in unannounced. She never explicitly said she wanted him to transfer back, but Hunter hadn’t been a special agent for nothing. He knew what she wanted, and it was just a matter of getting her to admit it. Even if Hunter had changed in the last six months, Vic hadn’t - from the streaks of red she kept in her hair despite the Bureau’s regulations to the pristine leather loafers she always wore.

“The Jeffersonian called. They’re working on a sensitive case and they need someone they can trust.”

“Good for them.” Vic still hadn’t actually said what she wanted, a fact that wasn’t lost on either of them.

“Hunter. I know you’re not that stupid.” Vic tossed something onto his desk, and Hunter groaned when he looked down and saw his old badge photo grinning up at him. “I told Izzy you’d be in around lunch time. She and the squints are preparing a briefing for you.”

“Vic -”

“They asked for you, and you only. If they don’t get you, they’re not going to do their best work. And you know when the Jeffersonian doesn’t do their best work, killers walk free.” _Do you want that on your conscience?_ Vic didn’t say that, but she didn’t have to. Damn her and damn Izzy and damn everyone else at the Jeffersonian.

 _Shit_. Everyone else at the Jeffersonian happened to include the woman he’d thought he was going to marry - the very same woman who was the reason he was behind this desk in the first place.

“Fine,” he huffed. Hunter wasn’t going to be the reason a murderer didn’t get put away. He’d just have to be careful, with the case and his heart both.

“You’re reporting to me, and only to me. Details of this case remain between us. Is that clear?”

“Yes ma’am,” Hunter answered on reflex. “Why all the smoke and mirrors?”

“It’s a sensitive case,” Vic repeated. She probably wouldn’t say more until they had more privacy than his cubicle could afford. “I’ve already put you back into the system as an active field agent. You’ll be working out of my office until we can get you your own place.”

“I’m just coming back for this one case,” Hunter said. “So there’s really no reason to try and get me my own office.” Most of the cases he worked on with the Jeffersonian lasted a week or two at most. They were brilliant scientists and the insights they provided made the cases move faster than the norm. Working with them again wouldn’t be easy, not after how badly he’d screwed up, but… 

“And what about Idaho? Much respect to the Jeffersonian staff but I don’t trust any of them to have my back in the field.” Idaho at least knew how to clean up after Hunter’s mistakes and keep his sorry ass out of the worst of trouble.

“Izzy and I will be keeping in contact to decide whether or not adding another person is worth the added security risk,” Vic said crisply.

“Keeping in contact, is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Hunter smirked.

“Brave words coming from a man who hasn’t even acknowledged he’s about to go work with his ex-girlfriend.”

Hunter sighed. Stupid Vic and stupid need for justice and stupid, _gorgeous_ Bobbi Morse were going to be the death of him.

\---

Some bodies were harder to work on than others. Donnie Gill was a hard body to work on, because he was _young_. It was never easy to forget how young some bodies were - little bones were little bones, and there were hallmark signs of a skeleton not yet fully grown Bobbi couldn’t stamp out of her brain - but forgetting was harder when there was flesh on top of the bones, a face to stare back at her while she and Izzy made their initial observations. Bobbi had covered Donnie’s face with a towel as soon as they were finished cataloging the injuries to the face and head, but by then the damage was done. Sometimes acute observational skills were more of a curse than a blessing, and Bobbi couldn’t help but notice that the last vestiges of baby fat still clung to Donnie’s cheeks and jawline and his skin was smooth and flawless. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty-five.

And he was dead.

So was his handler, but that autopsy hadn’t been as difficult. For one thing the man was obviously grown, and was close to retirement age for an FBI agent. His sandy blonde hair had streaks of gray at the temples and there were laughter lines etched into the corners of his eyes. He had lived a life, and a happy one if the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth were to be believed.

It didn’t make his death any better, but it took away some of the sting.

Mack had been in and out, collecting samples from the wounds and the clothing, and Daisy was working on compiling everything they knew so far into a file for Hunter. They didn’t know much, but what they did know didn’t paint a pretty picture. Fitz had left the room when Bobbi and Izzy had started discovering signs of torture on Donnie’s bdoy, and he hadn’t come back since. It was probably for the better.

She and Izzy had just finished their preliminary evaluation of the bodies when the glass doors to the lab slid open, revealing a hazel-eyed, scruffy-cheeked FBI agent Bobbi had almost hoped she would never see again.

Hunter looked better than any man had the right to. His black tee was wrinkled in places like it had long been shoved in the back of a drawer or sitting at the bottom of the closet, but it still clung to his chest and arms in a way that drew attention to the sculpted muscle of both. The spray of stubble across his cheeks balanced his military-regulation haircut and gave him a sort of rakish charm he always used to his advantage. He was irritatingly good-looking in the sort of way that would have made her second-guess asking for him at all, if the stakes weren’t so high.

“I hear you have a body.” Hunter directed his words at Izzy, not Bobbi, and she tried not to let that sting.

“Two bodies,” Iz corrected. “Daisy should be here any minute with the report.”

“Daisy?” Hunter asked, confused. 

“New hire. She helps with the tech side of things and lends her artistic talents to facial reconstructions,” Izzy explained. 

“Are we talking about me?” Daisy asked, slightly breathless as she hopped up onto the platform.

“We are. Daisy, this is Special Agent Lance Hunter. Hunter, Daisy Johnson.”

“Nice to meet you,” Hunter said smoothly, offering his hand. In the moment before Daisy accepted the handshake Bobbi tried to memorize the curve of his fingers, the breadth of his palm, the calluses on his skin. It had been too long since those hands had touched her.

 _Down, girl_. Bobbi took a deep breath through her nose. So what if she hadn’t had sex since she and Hunter had broken up? That was no excuse to be thinking his hands were the height of eroticism instead of just hands.

The platform was quiet as Hunter scanned through the thin folder Daisy had provided. Bobbi could see the other woman trying to catch her eye, but resolutely ignored her. Daisy knew of Bobbi’s ex through at least a dozen second-hand stories, and it hadn’t taken her long to figure out said ex was Hunter.

Hunter let out a low whistle when he was done reading the summary of the case. “Am I wrong in thinking you expect a mole?”

“How else would someone have known when they were meeting?” Bobbi asked. “It’s not like you guys hand out pamphlets.”

“This says Fitz knew the guy?” Hunter asked, resolutely ignoring what she had said.

“From school,” Daisy put in. 

“And I take it none of you have asked him if he knows anything?” When there was no response, Hunter sighed. “Lovely.” Bobbi bit back a comment about how they were scientists, not investigators. She should’ve thought to ask Fitz if he had any input on the case.

“Vic said she’s going to try to get you Donnie’s files,” Izzy began. 

“But red tape.” Hunter sighed again, louder. Red tape and endless paperwork had been one of his least favorite parts of working at the Bureau, a trait they shared.

“I could -”

“You’re not going to hack the FBI,” Izzy interrupted before Daisy could even suggest such a thing. Bobbi hid a smile behind her hand and purposefully didn’t look at Hunter so she wouldn’t burst into laughter.

“You’re no fun,” Daisy said.

“I’m going to go find Fitz before I have to pretend not to hear any more suggestions of illegal behavior,” Hunter announced.

“I’ll come with you,” Bobbi said hurriedly. If they were going to work together they might as well get the inevitable argument out of the way quickly.

\---

He was _not_ being immature. He was not walking any faster than he normally did, and even if he _was_ , it wasn’t like Hunter didn’t know Bobbi could keep up thanks to her stupid long legs. 

“Are you going to talk to me or are you just going to keep acting like I don’t exist?” Bobbi asked as she fell into stride beside him.

“The latter,” he answered shortly. If he pretended she didn’t exist, everything hurt less. He wasn’t face-to-face with his life’s worst failure and he _wasn’t_ thinking about how good she looked. There was a dead body - _two_ dead bodies - and running his hands through Bobbi’s hair should be the last thing on his mind. There were a few stray wisps flying away from her ponytail, shining gold even in the fluorescent light, and in a different time he would’ve brushed them back, kissed the side of her head, and teased her about letting her hair down every once in a while. That was before he had fucked up, though.

In the absence of being able to run his hands through her hair, though, ignoring her worked just fine.

“You’re acting like a child, Hunter!” Bobbi said, stepping in front of him and halting him in his tracks. 

“You don’t really have room to talk about _actions_ , Barbara!” he snapped. He knew her leaving was the right choice - for him, for her, and for _them_ , but dammit if it still didn’t hurt like a son of a bitch. And if he kept throwing that in her face, kept letting her believe he was pissed at her, then she wouldn’t try to get any closer, and he wouldn’t do anything he regretted.

“I am not having this argument with you,” Bobbi sighed. “I asked for you because I trust you, but if you’re not going to talk to me…”

“You asked for me?” Hunter asked, voice scratchy. He thought it was Izzy who had asked for him specifically, and if not Iz, then Mack, or hell, even Fitz. Bobbi was supposed to be a side effect of having to be at the Jeffersonian, not the reason he was there. But apparently, she was. 

“Yes. Because I trust you,” Bobbi repeated. 

Why was it that everyone in his life trusted him more than he trusted himself? Vic obviously trusted him or she wouldn’t have let him take the job, and Bobbi… 

“And you knew I would come?”

“Of course I did,” she said softly. “Come on. You need to talk to Fitz.”

Hunter nodded, but before he could begin walking again, his phone rang. Vic’s name flashed on the caller ID, and he sighed. “One sec.”

“Please tell me you have good news,” Hunter said in lieu of a greeting.

“Not good news,” Vic sighed. “Most of Donnie’s files are gone.”

“Gone?” Hunter echoed.

“Wiped from the system,” Vic elaborated. “Even the backups we have in case of system failure. I’m trying to track down the paper copies that Woods might have had, and I might be able to requisition his computer. But I don’t really know who we’re working against, so…”

“So you don’t know who to avoid,” Hunter agreed. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Just keep the squints happy,” Vic answered. “And be _careful_ , goddamnit. Whatever’s happening on the inside is obviously worse than we thought, and I don’t want you to end up like Woods.”

“Yeah, I’d prefer to stay alive as well,” Hunter said drily. “You said most of the files are gone. What’s left?”

“Just basic info on him and HYDRA. Nothing we couldn’t have figured out from Fitz.”

“How did you know -”

“Keeping in contact,” Vic said. Hunter could hear the smirk in her voice and he rolled her eyes.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later, Vic. Let me know if I can do anything to help find the files.”

“Of course. Tell Bobbi I say hi.”

Hunter hung up the phone. He did not tell Bobbi she said hi.

“Talking to Fitz will have to wait,” Izzy announced, sweeping down the corridor. “I found something on the body.”

“Which body?” Bobbi asked, already heading towards the forensic platform.

“Donnie’s,” Izzy answered. Hunter gave one last glance towards Fitz’s office before following the women back to the bodies. He and Fitz weren’t close, but he still wanted to talk to the younger man - both for the case’s concerns and because Hunter knew what it was like to lose a friend in the line of fire. He would get to it later, when there weren’t more pressing concerns.

“There’s several pinpricks on the back of his neck, like he was injected with something,” Izzy said. “We’re waiting for results on the tox screen but the back of the neck isn’t a typical injection site for most pharmaceuticals or recreational drugs. Not enough fat or muscle to make it anything other than painful.”

“Vic is worried that evidence is being destroyed,” Hunter said. “So if we think this could be a lead, we need to get going on it stat.”

“It’s definitely a lead,” Izzy declared. “You and Bobbi can go check out his apartment, see if there’s anything that could explain the marks.”

“We’ll take Mack, too,” Bobbi said breezily. Hunter didn’t know if it was for her benefit or his, but either way he was glad she was going to give them both a buffer. It would be nice to see Mack again, too.

And, more importantly, he wouldn’t have to be alone with Bobbi Morse.


	3. Chapter 3

“Am I missing something?” Mack said, an enormous tackle box brimming with forensic tools in one hand and the slim briefing file in the other. “Why is Hunter here again?”

“Because we need someone we can trust on this case.” Bobbi slammed the bottom drawer of her desk shut, tucking a handgun into her ankle holster and smoothing her pant leg over it. Hunter wasn’t the only one capable of looking after himself, even if he refused to admit it, and she wasn’t about to give him another excuse to be a sacrificial idiot.

“And we trust him?” Mack sounded highly skeptical.

Bobbi double-checked her field kit, making sure she had enough gloves, swabs, and evidence bags, before zipping it shut and leveling a look at Mack. “We do.”

He heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine, but at some point, I’m going to need more information.”

“Thank you.” Bobbi patted his arm as she exited her office and headed for the elevator. “Let’s go before he decides to leave us behind.”

“Oh yeah, very trustworthy,” Mack grumbled under his breath, punching the button for the secure parking level.

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “Did you get a chance to read the file?”

Mack waved the manila folder at her. “It took a whole thirty seconds. What the hell happened to this kid?”

“I don’t know,” Bobbi said. “But we’re going to find out.”

The elevator doors slid open and she squared her shoulders, determined to approach this like any other case when she caught sight of Hunter and froze. He was standing at the back of a black, standard-issue SUV, bare from the waist up. Her mouth went dry as he yanked a white t-shirt over his head, the taut plane of his back just as gorgeous as she remembered. She’d always loved the way he felt under her hands, the lean muscles seemingly built for hanging onto and digging her fingers into, for…

Mack cleared his throat and Bobbi blinked, her face heating.

Hunter turned, catching sight of them, and nodded. “Mack,” he said, pulling out a white button-down and shrugging into it.

“Hunter,” Mack said. “Been a while.”

Hunter’s eyes flickered in Bobbi’s direction as he slung the straps of his holster over his shoulders and buttoned his shirt. “I’ll be out of your hair shortly.”

Bobbi schooled her face into a neutral expression, not wanting him to know how much the prospect of him leaving again hurt, and set her kit in the back while Hunter changed into his standard-issue FBI uniform. The white button-up shirt was just wrinkled enough to look lived in, and the black jacket emphasized his shoulders—strong, but not intimidating. Perfect for suspects to cry on while they confessed their deepest secrets. She knew his other little tricks, too. How the knot of his tie was perpetually too loose, and the hem of his pant legs a smidge too long. Tiny imperfections that gave him an air of carelessness when the opposite was true. He cared deeply.

Too deeply, sometimes, but she couldn’t fault him for that. He’d broken all kinds of protocol to protect her, putting himself at risk, and while he remained convinced that made him a bad agent, she knew it was exactly the opposite. That passion made him an amazing investigator, and she refused to be the one who derailed his career. Dragging him back into the field to help her find the person responsible for Fitz’s friend’s death wasn’t ideal, but he’d been sulking in that stupid cubicle long enough. Maybe their personal lives were incompatible, but they’d always been damn good at catching murderers.

“I’ll take the-” Bobbi started, only to see Mack already climbing into the backseat. She could either sit next to him and let Hunter drive them around like the world’s grumpiest chauffeur, or she could suck it up, ride next to her ex-almost-fiancé and try to ignore the fact that he hated her. She let out a resigned sigh and opened the passenger door as Hunter slid behind the wheel.

Things were getting more complicated by the second. 

Starting the car, Hunter pulled out of the parking spot and headed for the garage exit, tugging irritably at his tie. Bobbi clasped her hands to keep from reaching over to help him adjust the knot like she used to. She missed the way he’d smile at her, his dimples flashing and his eyes crinkling at the corners. She turned to stare out the window, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Traffic wasn’t bad this time of the morning, and the trip was short, much to Bobbi’s relief. After spending the first half of the drive in icy silence, Mack made a comment about one sports team or another, and he and Hunter had been debating stats ever since. The familiar bickering brought back its own set of bittersweet memories, but at least these ones were safe for work.

They fell silent again as Hunter cruised down one street of Donnie’s former neighborhood and then another, slowly circling in on the old, nondescript brick building that had about as much character as a cellblock. The windows were small, and the paltry patch of green out front was mostly weeds.

They went around the block twice before Hunter seemed satisfied, and Bobbi did her best to rein in her impatience. From the sideways glance he gave her when he finally parked the car, she hadn’t entirely been successful. She bit her tongue and squinted out the windshield at the apartment building, which offered a choice of noisy street or grimy parking lot views. Whatever Donnie had been doing for HYDRA, it hadn’t paid well.

Bobbi heard the car door open behind her and Hunter’s head whipped around. “Wait!” he snapped.

“For what?” Mack’s confused voice said.

Hunter rubbed a hand over his face. “Nevermind. Just…we don’t know much about these guys, and two people are already dead. We have to be careful.” He finally looked at Bobbi, his usually whiskey-warm eyes inscrutable. “Got it?”

She nodded, despite her desire to snap back that this wasn’t her first time in the field, and his shoulders relaxed. He was seriously going to get a piece of her mind when they were finished, but any disagreements could wait until they were back at the lab and Hunter unwound a little. She wasn’t some fragile victim or a witness who needed protecting. They were partners, dammit, though he clearly needed reminding of that.

Still, it could wait until later, when Mack wasn’t a captive audience of one. He might want more details, but he didn’t need a full-blown show. Hunter climbed out of the car and sauntered toward the building while she and Mack grabbed their gear. By the time they caught up to him, he was poking at the discarded mail leaflets left by a bank of mailboxes. Bobbi had no doubt he was looking at the names and would probably be able to recite them all later.

“Stay behind me,” Hunter said, moving toward the stairs. Mack made a face and started to follow but Bobbi grabbed his arm, waiting until Hunter was half a flight up before letting go. Silently, they climbed to the second floor, and then the third, catching bits of pieces of the life going on behind closed doors. Someone had their television on at top volume, and a stereo was thumping loudly through another wall, possibly in retaliation.

Donnie’s apartment was at the far end of the fourth floor, away from the stairs. The hallway carpet was dingy and worn through in some places, showing the concrete beneath. At least half the lights were on their way to dying.

Hunter stood to one side of the door, and Bobbi stopped a few feet away, waiting. He knocked, his head canted like he was listening, and knocked again.

Mack sighed behind her. “We waiting for a dead guy to answer the door?”

Bobbi shushed him just as Hunter cursed. “Lock’s broken,” he said, drawing his handgun. “Stay here.”

“We will,” Bobbi said, stomping on Mack’s foot when he opened his mouth to object. Hunter disappeared into the apartment, leaving the door wide open.

“You’re pushing it, Barbara,” Mack whispered. “What the hell is going on?”

“Let Hunter do his job,” she whispered back.

“Aren’t we all here to do our jobs? You’ve been twitchy since he showed up. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Yes,” Bobbi said firmly. This case was too important to leave in the hands of anyone else. All she had to do was keep her feelings out of it.

\---

Hunter could hear Mack’s deep voice grumbling to Bobbi. About him, most likely, since Mack seemed as thrilled to see him as Hunter was about being ordered to work with the squints again.

At least Bobbi hadn’t pushed back against him yet. He couldn’t quite figure out what her game was since she hadn’t been afraid to get in his face at the lab earlier, but at least for now, she was listening. Small favors. He doubted she’d censor herself for much longer, though whatever she had to say couldn’t possibly hurt more than the day she’d walked out.

The interior of the apartment was dim, the only light coming from a long, narrow window set in the middle of the wall over the couch, but since the lock had been broken, he could guess what it looked like. He groped along the wall until he found a light switch, flicking it on and raising his gun to scan the small room.

The place was trashed. Someone had done a bloody good job tossing it, but he had to hope they’d missed something.

The FBI had investigated HYDRA a few times over the years, but nothing had ever stuck. Billionaire Gideon Malick’s pet organization had burst onto the scene after winning a suspiciously large number of military contracts and had rapidly expanded into hundreds of federal supply gigs. They had their fingers in a lot of government pies, and their books were scrupulously kept, almost too clean for a company that size. Malick’s influence kept anyone from digging too deeply, though there were always rumors.

Now, maybe, Donnie had given them a way in, just not the way he’d expected. Everything about this case was as messy as his apartment. Including Hunter’s feelings for the woman waiting in the hall. After all this time, he’d thought his heart would at least be smarter than his dick, but the fact that she’d asked for him kept tripping him up.

The bedroom was in the same state as the living area, sheets stripped off the bed, dresser drawers emptied onto the floor. He carefully checked all the nooks and crannies, including the tiny shower stall, before conceding whoever had done this was long gone.

“Clear!” he called, heading back to the living room and holstering his gun.

“Finally,” Mack grumbled, following Bobbi through the door.

They stopped short just inside, and Bobbi’s eyes went wide. Hunter could see that big brain of hers working its magic, figuring out what had happened. The apartment was more of a disaster than one might expect of a twenty-something living on his own. Couch cushions on the floor, posters torn off the wall, cords snaking across the floor.

He watched her gaze follow one of the tangled wires crossing the space. There was a television shoved against one wall but no computers, no laptops or tablets or anything that looked remotely electronic.

“Someone cleaned him out,” she said.

“Definitely,” Hunter confirmed.

Bobbi set her field bag just inside the door. She reached up to adjust her ponytail, golden hair cascading down to her shoulders before she corralled back up in a neat bun on her head. He curled his hands into fists, the echo of those silken strands sliding through his fingertips making his palms tingle. She wasn’t his to touch anymore, she’d made that more than clear. Why she’d dragged him into this case was a mystery for another day. Knowing Bobbi, she really had decided he was the most practical choice. They’d practically lived in each other’s pockets up until six months ago, and she knew him better than anyone. It was a small consolation that she didn’t believe he could be corrupted, even after he’d so bitterly disappointed her. 

“What did you touch?” she asked, all business. She pulled a pair of disposable gloves out of her bag and tossed them to Hunter, then grabbed a pair for herself. 

He pulled on the gloves obediently. “Light switch here and in the bathroom. The doors were all open.”

“Anything else?”

He shook his head. “Everything was just like you see it.” He crouched down and gently picked up a broken picture frame, shaking the glass away from the black and white illustration of a butterfly with some fancy script under it,  _ Danaus plexippus _ . It was the first spark of personality he’d seen in the whole place. “What was he mixed up in?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Bobbi said, her voice gentle.

Her hand landed on his shoulder and he looked up, locking eyes with her. The bright blue drew him in, warm and familiar, and for a moment, it was almost like those six months didn’t exist. “I know.”

Her expression softened. “Hunter-”

Standing abruptly, he put some space between them before he could do something stupid, like beg her to take him back. “You should take your pictures. Fitz might notice something we don’t.”

“How does Fitz know this guy again?” Mack asked, carefully finding an empty patch of carpet to set down his field kit.

“They were roommates in college,” Bobbi said. “Fitz said Donnie worked with computers, too.” She pulled a camera from her bag and started snapping photos, getting several angles before heading for the bedroom.

Mack looked around the room doubtfully. “Thought their line of work paid better than this.”

“According to what little we’ve got, he made more than enough to live better than this” Hunter said.

“Not a lot of stuff in here,” Bobbi called. “Shouldn’t take long to process.”

“I noticed that, too,” Hunter said. “Do we know if he had another place?”

Mack shook his head. “Daisy said this was the only one.”

“Have her check again.” Hunter frowned at the drab walls and paltry furnishings. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

“I’ll say.” Mack picked up the illustration Hunter had been looking at earlier. “This isn’t even close to accurate.”

Bobbi’s camera flash went off, and something winked in Hunter’s peripheral vision. “What do you mean?” he asked, absently moving toward the kitchen to try and locate whatever had caught his attention. Drawers and cupboards had been flung open and silverware scattered across the floor. An old-fashioned analog clock was the only thing still hanging on the wall, untouched. It was positioned so it could be seen no matter where you were in the room.

“I mean this isn’t even a butterfly, it’s a moth,” Mack began, but Hunter held up a hand to stop him, shaking his head.

“Wait,” he said, voice low.

Bobbi appeared almost instantly beside him. He jerked his head toward the clock, and the tiny lens set just below the number 12. Donnie had been under surveillance. Someone could be watching them now.

“Oh,” she breathed, moving closer.

He immediately put himself between her and the clockface, blocking her view when she tried to peek over his shoulder and grabbing a nearby kitchen towel to drape over it.

“Lance,” she hissed. The sound of his name sent a frisson of lust down his spine. He used to love hearing her whisper it in the dark, with her legs wrapped around him and the taste of her on his lips.

She lifted the camera, abruptly bringing him back to the present. “You can get photos later,” he snapped out, angrier than he intended. “Turn around.”

“They’ve already seen me.” She glared at him.

“Well, they don’t need an encore!”

“Guys?” Mack said, still holding the misidentified moth.

“Hang on,” Hunter said, pulling the clock away from the wall. Wires dangled from the back. Way too many wires for a simple clock. From the looks of it, it had video, sound, the works. Bobbi was digging through her kit, but he wasn’t wasting any more time. The bug could still be transmitting to whoever had set this up. He dug into his pocket for a knife. Some things you just had to do the old-fashioned way. Slipping the blade between the wall and the back of the clock, Hunter easily sliced through the wires.

Mack picked his way across the floor. “Is that…?”

“Yep,” Hunter replied tersely.

Bobbi shook open a large evidence bag designed to stop electronics from transmitting and Hunter dropped the clock in. She sealed it and he let out the breath he was holding. Dammit, he’d barely been back a day and already he’d failed to keep her safe. 

“Someone was spying on him,” Mack said.

“He could have put up his own surveillance?” Bobbi suggested.

“Maybe,” Hunter acknowledged, though it didn’t ease the knot in his chest. “Daisy should be able to tell us.”

“I have a feeling we might need them for these, too.” Mack carefully peeled the moth drawing away from its backing paper, revealing a row of thin memory cards taped to the underside.

“Donnie left us a clue,” Bobbi whispered.

“Let’s hope we figure it out before HYDRA does,” Hunter said. He had to, for all their sakes.

He’d let everyone down once. He’d be damned if he did it again. 

\---

Hunter knocked on the open door of Bobbi’s office. “Izzy sent everyone home to get some rest.” He leaned on the doorframe, his suit jacket and tie long gone, and his shirtsleeves rolled up. He still looked far too good. 

“I’m fine,” Bobbi said, and then immediately yawned, much to her dismay. The autopsy findings so far just brought up more questions and provided no answers. Between that and the frustrating lack of evidence at Donnie’s place, they were getting nowhere fast. 

“Sure,” Hunter drawled. “I’ll drive you home.”

That got her attention. “What? Why?”

He crossed his arms. “Because your face was broadcast to who knows where from Donnie’s apartment earlier?”

“So, what, now HYDRA goons are going to ambush me at my apartment? Don’t be ridiculous, Hunter.”

“You’re the one who brought me in, Barbara.” She hated when he said her name like that, clipped and angry, hitting all the consonants with force. It was the exact opposite of the way he used to call her Bob, all soft, round sounds that somehow made her nickname warm and affectionate. “It’s my case, and I’m responsible for all of you.”

“Why don’t you drive Mack home, then? I’m sure he’d love that.”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “I had an agent clear his place when he went home, alright? You’re not special.”

His words slammed into her harder than she’d expected. Bobbi carefully closed the file folder she was reading and drew in a shaky breath, blinking back tears. It’s what she’d wanted, why she’d walked away, but it still cut deeply to hear him say it.

“Fine,” she snapped. “Let’s get this over with.”

She turned off her computer and carefully locked her office door while Hunter stood nearby, his face unreadable. The lab was quiet. They must be the last ones here.

Donnie might not have had much, but his apartment had taken longer to process than she’d hoped. The discovery of electronic surveillance had put Hunter on edge, and he’d barked at them every time they said something aloud while continuing an ultimately futile quest to find any more hidden devices.

Mack had been thoroughly disgruntled by the time they made it back to the lab, stomping away to close himself in his office and analyze what little they’d found. 

Hunter was right about one thing, the lack of personal effects in Donnie’s apartment was strange. There’d been no diploma, no stray photos of friends or family, no knick-knack from a favorite bar or vacation. It contained the bare necessities and nothing more. Besides the hidden memory cards, they’d found one woman’s tank top mixed in with Donnie’s clothes. They’d passed it off to Daisy in the hopes she might be able to track where it’d come from, but it was a long shot. 

What they hadn’t found was more disconcerting. No drugs, no needles, and nothing to explain the injection sites on Donnie’s body. They had to hope the tox screen would tell them more. 

Tomorrow, they’d pick it all up again, trying to weave the threads of a life into some recognizable clue. 

The drive home was as silent as the first, the tension mounting until it was almost unbearable. “You kept up your field qualifications?” Hunter suddenly asked, startling her.

“Of course I did,” Bobbi said. Great, they were finally talking, but it was about guns. Next, he'd lecture her on the rules of firearms or how important it was to build good shooting habits. Pathetically, she’d prefer that over his constant cold shoulder. 

“You need to be armed for the duration of this case.”

Now he sounded like one of Mack’s stupid robots. She lifted her knee, bracing a foot against the dash, and yanked up her pants leg to reveal the holster she’d been wearing all day. Hunter glanced over, but the orange glow of the streetlights behind him hid his expression. 

“Happy?” she snapped.

“Keep it on you.” 

Her foot thunked back to the floorboard. “Yes, sir,” she said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her tone. 

He didn’t react. 

By the time they reached her apartment building, she was ready to shake Hunter until some semblance of the man she remembered appeared. She’d take anything besides these cold, impersonal interactions. Even a knockdown, drag-out fight would be a relief. 

He shrugged into his jacket to walk her inside, peering suspiciously at all the dark corners in her lobby and then riding up the elevator in silence, his hands clasped in front of him and his back ramrod straight.

She hated every second of it.

Digging through her purse for her keys, she handed them over before he could ask. He looked at her, his eyebrow raised.

“You’re in charge,” she said.

The ghost of a smirk crossed his face, a tiny glimpse of the Hunter she’d known, and she barely resisted the urge to pin him against the wall and tease him until it morphed into a full-blown grin.

Instead, she watched from the doorway as he gave her apartment a cursory inspection before nodding and handing her keys back. “There’ll be a detail watching your building for a couple of days, just to be on the safe side.”

“Great,” Bobbi grumbled, crossing her arms. Just what she needed, more unnecessary FBI protection. 

“Goodnight,” Hunter said.

“Goodnight,” she echoed, instead of asking if he wanted to stay.

In another lifetime, they would have made the most of their downtime during a case, curling up on the couch to eat takeout and compare notes, which inevitably led to a lot more kissing than talking and usually culminated in some truly excellent sex.

The door closed softly behind him, and Bobbi dropped her bag to the floor and kicked off her shoes in lieu of screaming in frustration. She stomped off to the bedroom, going through her nighttime routine methodically and trying to ignore the need that had been building all day. Intellectually, she knew he was off-limits, but her body wasn’t listening.

She crashed into bed with a groan, burying her face in the pillow and reliving the moment in Donnie’s apartment when he’d found the surveillance device in the clock. She’d been so close she could smell him, that faint whiff of soap and Hunter mixed with the starch from his shirt collar. She’d wanted to bury her nose in his neck and breathe him in.

“Shit,” she said aloud, rolling over. Her skin felt too tight, and despite the late hour, she was wide awake. Glaring up at the ceiling, she shimmied out of her underwear and closed her eyes, giving in to the inevitable.

Cupping a breast, she teased her nipple until it was standing at attention, while her other hand slid lower. Damn Hunter and his stupid, perfect neck. Along with the rest of him. Thank god Mack had been there, or whoever was recording Donnie’s apartment might have gotten a show. Her fingers made contact with her clit and she let out a relieved breath, drawing slow circles.

So many times today she’d almost given in and told him why she’d left, why she’d stayed away. It would have inevitably ended in another argument, but there were so many better options to imagine. Like pressing kisses to the back of his neck in that tiny, ugly kitchen until all the tension finally left his shoulders. She could almost hear the desperate way he’d say her name when he finally gave in. Maybe he’d turn to face her, their kisses clashing and eager after so long apart. Or she’d let him take charge and push her up against the wall, the back of her head against the camera so whoever was watching could only guess what they were up to. She groaned, moving her fingers a little faster.

He’d always been a quick study. He’d remember what she wanted, what she needed. Those strong hands would make short work of all those buttons in their way, his fingertips tracing the curve of her breasts. She pinched a nipple, arching against her hand. She could almost hear the clink of his belt buckle as he undid it, feel him guiding her leg to wrap around his hip. She bit her lip and slipped a finger into herself, still working her clit. He’d take her hard and fast against the wall, filling her the way she craved.

Bobbi gasped and her eyes flew open as her climax hit, her orgasm washing through her body and leaving behind little aftershocks of pleasure. She slumped against her mattress and let out a sigh, releasing her breast. She kicked off the quilt, overheated, and resisted reaching out to search for someone who wasn’t there. The bed felt too big, too empty.

Or she’d just do her job so he could do his, and they’d keep pretending they were strangers to one another until eventually, finally, it became true. 

It didn’t matter what she wanted. Some things just weren’t meant to be.


	4. Chapter 4

Bobbi arrived at the Jeffersonian early, but not early enough. Hunter was already loitering around the forensic platform, looking grumpy as ever. She had been hoping to beat him and have some time to look at the evidence on the case without being constantly distracted, but it had been a naive hope. She had proven to herself last night that Hunter could distract her even when he wasn’t around.

“Good, you’re here,” Izzy said as Bobbi swiped herself onto the platform. “Team meeting in Daisy’s office.”

“You were waiting for me?” Bobbi asked, huffing out an annoyed breath. She hated being the reason a case couldn’t move forward; she wasn’t used to it, and even if she was, it would be frustrating for this case in particular because of how much it meant to Fitz.

“It’s fine.” The non-answer was an answer in itself, and Bobbi sighed again as she followed Izzy down the hall into Daisy’s office. It was the only space in the Jeffersonian that could consider calling itself cozy. Daisy had strung up some fairy lights and thrown bean bags in the corner nearest her desk. A hula girl perched on the bookshelf next to the screen at the front of the room and gave the whole space a kitschy, almost dream-like, air.

Fitz and Mack were already there, their heads together as they talked under their breath. Bobbi reached to shut the door behind her, but instead found herself reaching towards Hunter - who would also be invited to the meeting. Right. Bobbi avoided looking him in the eye; if he looked at her, he might know what she had done last night. If he knew she still cared, everything would fall apart, and that was the last thing she wanted.

“Alright, gang,” Daisy said as Hunter swung the door shut and clicked the lock into place. “The memory cards Donnie left had _massive_ amounts of information, and most of it was pretty heavily encrypted. This is the one my software managed to crack first. It looks like mostly bank stuff, and I have an algorithm plowing through it to see if there’s anything unusual, but human brains are pattern-finding machines.” She tapped a few times at her tablet and the screen at the front of the room filled with bank transactions. Before Bobbi could complain it wouldn’t be very efficient for them to all stare at the huge screen, Daisy was passing out tablets to everyone that also had the transactions. “I figure if we all put our heads together we might be able to see something the computer can’t.”

“If we can see things the computer can’t, why do we even have them?” Mack grumbled under his breath. Fitz elbowed him in the ribs none too subtly. 

“Computers have to be told what to look for,” Daisy explained patiently. She was just as familiar with Mack’s lack of fondness for over-sophisticated technology as the rest of them. “And ‘weird stuff’ is a pretty broad set of parameters.”

“This is just data from HYDRA?” Hunter asked. 

“Kind of. This is his personal account, but it looks like he’s been hiding some things away from HYDRA on the side. I tried to separate the HYDRA stuff out since that’s what I think we’re going to need, but.” Daisy sighed. “I feel like we’re looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“Welcome to working with the FBI,” Hunter said, clapping her on the shoulder. “All we do is look for needles.”

“And shoot people?” Daisy asked.

“We try to avoid that part if we can.” Daisy probably didn’t notice the way Hunter’s jaw tightened at the question, but Bobbi did. She _also_ noticed how Hunter shifted his weight back and how his hand drifted to his hip as if to assure himself his gun was still there.

“Eight nineteen,” Fitz blurted out, interrupting Hunter’s spiral of self-loathing before Bobbi could do something stupid like reach for his hand.

“Huh?” Mack asked.

“He paid eight dollars and nineteen cents for something,” Fitz said. “When we were in school - my birthday is August 19th, you know, he would always laugh at me for writing nineteen eight instead of eight nineteen.”

“Do you recognize the company that charged it?” Daisy asked.

Fitz deflated. “No.”

“Anyone else recognize it?” Daisy asked, helpfully highlighting the company’s name on the big screen. _Express Printing_. It was a name so generic it didn’t mean anything, and Bobbi doubted any of them could recognize it even if they had heard it before.

“There’s another eight dollar charge,” Mack said. “Procter and Gamble.” Bobbi recognized that name, but the company was so large it _also_ was practically meaningless. It would have been easier to make something of the companies if they were small business with some sort of meaning attached instead of mega-corporations.

“What about the one made at eight nineteen in the morning?” Hunter asked. “Yangley’s? Anyone know them?”

“What if we’re not supposed to be looking at the companies themselves?” Izzy asked. “If Donnie knew he was being watched, this might be the only way he felt safe communicating.”

“So if our clue is Fitz’s birthday…” Daisy punched several things into her tablet, and the list on the screen shrunk significantly, “... then this is whatever he wanted to say.”

“I don’t know about you all, but R-Z-H-P-E-Y doesn’t mean anything to me.” Mack frowned. “Maybe the clue wasn’t Fitz’s birthday?”

“Could be a substitution cipher,” Izzy suggested.

“Under normal circumstances I’d give it to one of the FBI eggheads to crack, but -”

“Zephyr,” Fitz interrupted. “It’s a scramble of Zephyr.”

“Which means something to us because…?” Mack prompted.

“When we were in school Donnie and I went to a diner every weekend together to talk about our projects. The Zephyr Diner.”

“You think he might’ve left something for you there?” Hunter asked.

Fitz shrugged.

“Well, until Daisy finishes with the rest of the memory cards I don’t see why we can’t take a field trip.” Hunter shrugged cavalierly, but Bobbi knew better than to believe he hadn’t already analyzed every possible outcome of taking Fitz out alone, especially after what they’d found in Donnie’s apartment.

“Don’t die out there,” Bobbi said reflexively when Hunter and Fitz turned to leave, cursing herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

“Uh…” Daisy said.

“It’s our thing,” Hunter said, brushing Daisy’s concern over the phrase off. “Or used to be our thing.”

He breezed out of the room before she had the chance to answer him, and Bobbi sighed. She shouldn’t have said what she did, but Hunter didn’t need to act like it didn’t mean anything.

It still meant something to _her_.

\---

“You did good in there,” Hunter said as Fitz ducked into the passenger seat of the SUV.

“Thanks,” Fitz said shortly. Hunter handed him the GPS so he could put in the address for the diner, but didn’t say anything more to Fitz. He was obviously deep in his own head, and after everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, he had every right to be.

The GPS directed Hunter out of the Jeffersonian parking lot and began leading him down winding streets away from the heart of D.C. He hadn’t thought to ask how far away the diner was, but it didn’t matter much; he needed alone time with Fitz, and the drive provided an easy excuse to begin teasing some information out of the Scottish squint. Hunter only had a passing acquaintance with Fitz - he had done some work with the FBI before being tapped for the Jeffersonian lab - but it was obvious the other man needed someone to talk to. As much as Hunter loved the rest of his squints, none of them, except maybe Mack, were emotionally competent enough to talk to Fitz about his feelings surrounding the death of his friend.

“I’m sorry about Donnie,” Hunter said after about five minutes of silence. “We should have done better.”

“You weren’t there,” Fitz said shortly. “And the agent died, too.”

“I know. But your friend died after someone promised to protect him, and that doesn’t get any easier just because the person who wanted to protect him also died. If anything I’d be even more upset, if I was in your position.” Hunter didn’t look away from the road, hopeful that might make it easier for Fitz to open up.

“I don’t think there’s anything I could have done,” Fitz said eventually.

“And does that make it better or worse?” Hunter asked gently.

“I don’t know.” Fitz’s voice sounded uncharacteristically small. “I know we work on bodies, but I don’t like it when people die.”

“I think that just makes you a normal person, mate,” Hunter said. He risked a glance over at Fitz, but the other man was staring intently out the passenger-side window. “And it’s different when it’s your friend.”

“Did you know the agent who died?” Fitz asked.

“Woods? No, I didn’t.”

“Oh.”

“I could ask Vic about him, if you want,” Hunter offered, not entirely sure why Fitz would want the information but feeling obligated to give it anyways.

“Do you think you’re a better agent than him?” 

“I… I don’t know.” He didn’t know anything about Woods, and Hunter’s own crisis of confidence didn’t help his ability to assert his competence. If Hunter had been standing next to Donnie Gill when he had been attacked, would Donnie be alive to give them all the information stashed on the memory cards? Or would Bobbi have been forced to autopsy his body, solve _his_ murder? 

Hunter swallowed hard. It was easy to believe Bobbi would be able to detach herself from any relationship they had when doing his autopsy, easy to believe she wouldn’t care at all… but Bob always put that mask on, pretended she didn’t care, to hide how much it affected her. She never liked showing anyone her weak spots, and Hunter wanted to believe that even if she hated him now, the memory of what they had had together would make cutting his body open difficult for her. She _had_ to care.

“Then why are you here?” Fitz asked bluntly.

“Because Vic asked me to be.” Because _Bobbi_ asked him to be. Giving her the cold shoulder didn’t seem to be working in making him love her any less. “I couldn’t stop what happened to Donnie, and I’m sorry. We don’t know anything about what’s happening here except that the people who are doing this obviously don’t care how many bodies they leave behind, and if I’m here, I can make sure you’re not one of those bodies.”

“Can you teach me how to use a gun?”

“Where’d that come from?” Hunter asked, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“You’re not always going to be around. Maybe if Donnie had known how to shoot he wouldn’t be dead.”

Hunter sincerely doubted a civilian with only basic firearms training would be of any help against the kind of people who killed Donnie and Woods, but now wasn’t the time to express that doubt. “I can take you to the range sometime after the case is over,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” Hunter paused. “And if there’s anything else you need before then… I’m just a call away, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Fitz didn’t seem enthusiastic about sharing anything more, which meant Hunter was going to need to wait for the ride back to ask questions about Donnie and what his life might’ve been like.

Spending the rest of the drive in silence wasn’t a bad thing; Hunter needed to stew. Fitz’s birthday being the key to the whole puzzle felt... off. How could Donnie know his friend would be involved in the case? How could he know he was going to die at all? Leaving all these clues behind, clues that only one person could trace, felt _weird_. It was possible Donnie had built redundancies into the system, if he was an engineer like Fitz, but what sort of redundancies could lead someone with no knowledge of Donnie to a diner on the edge of D.C.?

Hunter wasn’t any closer to an answer when they pulled into the parking lot of The Zephyr Diner. It looked like it could be any other diner in the country, a squat brick building with a red roof and an unassuming air about it. Fitz walked in confidently and Hunter flashed his badge as they walked through the door. He would explain the situation when someone asked, but he didn’t think Fitz really wanted to interact with people at the moment.

Fitz made a beeline for a booth near the back, with a perfect view of the busy street outside. 

“This is where we used to sit,” Fitz explained. “If he left another clue, it might be here.” 

Hunter nodded and tried to be inconspicuous as he began running his hand along the underside of the table, searching for imperfections in the wood. He didn’t find anything other than a particularly large wad of gum he wished he could un-touch.

“I’m going to go clean this off,” he said, wrinkling his nose when he withdrew his hand and found it covered in Hubba Bubba.

“I’ll come with you.”

“That’s really not -”

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” Fitz interrupted. “Besides, the bathrooms are hard to find.”

Hunter accepted the explanation without any fuss. Fitz admitting he didn’t want to be alone was more than Hunter would do in the same situation, and Hunter respected the honesty.

The men’s bathroom was empty, which made sense since the diner itself wasn’t exactly a hub of activity. Hunter washed his hands as quickly as possible while still getting the stickiness off, then turned to the hand dryer.

“That thing never works,” Fitz said before Hunter could try to use it.

“Never?”

“Not as long as we came here. Dunno why they didn’t bother fixing it.”

Hunter squinted at the dryer, searching for anything that could be construed as a clue. The caulk between the dryer and the wall was off-white, suspiciously light for a dryer that had supposedly never been serviced in over ten years when everything else in the bathroom seemed to be the kind of grubby you’d expect from a greasy spoon. Without warning, Hunter brought his elbow down on the metal casing. Fitz jumped backwards as the seal between the dryer and the wall began to split, and with another swing of his elbow Hunter had the entire outer box of the hand dryer removed.

Taking the front off the contraption revealed a mess of wires, but also…

“Does this match the other ones we found?” Hunter asked, plucking the loose memory card from the shelf in the back.

“It looks like it could,” Fitz said, reaching his hand out for the card. Hunter dropped it into Fitz’s palm and allowed the squint to - well, squint. 

“How’d you know it’d be in there?” Fitz asked when he was done looking at the card.

“I didn’t,” Hunter admitted. “But sometimes I just like to hit things.”

Fitz smirked. “You okay?”

“All I’m saying is don’t mix work and play, Fitzy. Then you end up working with your ex-girlfriend and everything sucks.”

“Can I see that?” Fitz asked, ignoring Hunter’s comment in favor of reaching for the discarded casing on the grimy tile floor.

Hunter scooped it up and passed it to Fitz, who turned it over in his hands a few times before finding what he was looking for.

“This is definitely a message from Donnie,” Fitz said. He pointed to a doodle on the side of the metal - a butterfly crudely drawn in thick black Sharpie.

“That does seem to be his calling card,” Hunter agreed.

“Why a butterfly?”

That was an excellent question - one they could add to the list of answers they didn’t have.

\---

“Hey.” 

Bobbi looked up from her work to see Hunter leaning against the door frame, probably trying to look suave and instead only succeeding in looking like an absolute dork. She tried to quell the fondness curling through her; Hunter had made it more than clear he was interested in being cordial, let alone close.

“Hey. Got anything for me?” she asked, figuring the only reason Hunter would come to see her is if it had something to do with the case.

“No, all we found was another memory card. Daisy said it’s going to have to get in line, since her system’s still crunching through all the other ones we got.” Hunter shoved his hands in his pockets. “Can I come in?”

Bobbi hesitated, but nodded, unsure what had caused Hunter to finally thaw but unwilling to question it lest he decide to shut her out again.

“Fitz asked me if I would teach him how to shoot,” Hunter said, sidling closer to her desk. “I wanted to know what you thought.”

“He’d never actually be able to shoot someone,” Bobbi answered without hesitation. Fitz would get all the way up to having a gun pointed at someone’s chest, but Bobbi could never imagine him actually pulling the trigger. Taking someone’s life wasn’t something he could do, not when he constantly struggled with whether or not he was a good person. At least talking about Fitz gave Bobbi a decent answer as to why Hunter would approach her; he’d always been a good friend, and he’d keep being one even if it meant their paths had to cross more than he’d like.

“That’s what I thought, too,” Hunter said.

“Then why ask me?” Surely he didn’t _want_ to spend time with her, not with how he had been acting recently.

“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t just being prejudiced against squints.”

“Iz carries a gun,” Bobbi said. She wasn’t letting Hunter off the hook that easily. She didn’t know what she wanted him to say - that he had come to ask her because he cared about her opinion, maybe - but the squint excuse was a flimsy one at best.

“Iz’s girlfriend is a top-shelf FBI agent, of course she carries a gun. And between you and me, she barely counts as a squint anyways.”

Bobbi couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips at his conspiratorial tone. “And what about me?”

“You definitely count as a squint. Especially when you’re wearing your glasses.” Bobbi flushed slightly; she didn’t wear her reading glasses often, only when her eyes were tired at the end of a long day, but she had _far_ too many memories of how Hunter reacted to them to think him bringing them up was innocent.

“I mean carrying a gun,” Bobbi said. “Am I not allowed to now that I’m no longer involved with a top-shelf FBI agent?”

“You _should_ be carrying a gun. I told you that,” Hunter answered, face hardening. “Especially in the lab.”

“In the lab? Really?” Bobbi asked, sitting back in her chair. She hadn't even realized she was leaning forward - but Hunter had that effect on her. Every time he was nearby she wanted to get closer, even when the best thing to do was keep her space. The best thing for both of them was for her to keep her space, and she ought to have been thankful Hunter had been so militant about freezing her out, but…

“We have no idea what we’re dealing with here, Bob. If someone knows this is where we’re working, and they send a team… I’m just saying, there’s one of me and five of you.”

And if Hunter knew she didn’t have her gun with him, he would worry. They both knew how worrying about her went - he’d make mistakes and she’d regret it enough for both of them. _Fuck_ , things had been easier when she didn’t care so much about Hunter and his feelings.

“Fine,” Bobbi sighed. “But we’re safe here.” She needed to believe she was safe in the lab, or she’d never be able to get her work done.

“Of course you’re safe. I’m here.”

“You know you sound like an asshole when you go all macho FBI agent, right?” she asked, smirking.

“You used to like it.”

 _I still do_. “You sounded like an asshole then, too, but I was too blinded by -” Shit. There was no way to end the sentence without stroking his ego.

“Can’t even remember why you liked me, huh?” Hunter asked, chuckling self-deprecatingly.

“Oh, shut _up_.” Then Bobbi did what she always used to do when he was getting all morose and difficult to deal with - she stood up and kissed him. It took a half-second for Bobbi to realize she shouldn’t have been kissing him at all, and another full second for her to convince herself to stop. His lips were familiar and comforting in a way she didn’t realize she needed right now, and it hurt deep in her chest to pull back from him. He had just starting thawing, and this one stupid kiss was going to put him back in permafreeze.

Hunter stared at her, eyes glazed. “Bob -”

Whatever he had to say was cut off by Daisy flying into Bobbi’s office. She didn’t seem to notice how close Bobbi and Hunter were to each other, which at least meant fewer awkward explanations later.

“You guys have to see this,” Daisy said. “Donnie might’ve given us the key to taking down HYDRA.”


	5. Chapter 5

“What did you find?” Hunter asked.

His full attention was on Daisy now, and Bobbi swallowed the urge to kiss him again just to have it back. For just a moment, it was almost like nothing had changed. The shape of his mouth, the rising tide of need inside her, it was as familiar as breathing and she wanted more. They were still close enough that it would be easy to initiate another, but she’d already put their fragile truce at risk. This wasn’t about her, or what she wanted. He was here to help with the case, and she’d be damned if she screwed things up for him a second time.

Carefully, Bobbi leaned away, but her subtle movement seemed to draw attention to the one thing she hoped Daisy wouldn’t notice.

“Oh, uh, I hope I’m not interrupting,” Daisy said, her eyes flicking between them.

Bobbi opened her mouth, but Hunter beat her to it, standing abruptly and putting more space between them. “Of course not,” he said stiffly. “I was just updating Dr. Morse on what we found at the diner.”

 _Ouch._ She’d been downgraded from Bob to Dr. Morse in the space of 30 seconds, and it hurt. He’d probably meant it to. She snapped her mouth shut before something sarcastic came out.

Daisy hesitated for a moment before she nodded, but that curious expression didn’t bode well. Bobbi hadn’t been working with her long, but one thing that had been eminently clear from the start was that Daisy never gave up. It made her an amazing technician, and a great asset to the team, but Bobbi really didn’t need that attention focused on her love life. Or lack of one.

“Did you get something from the new memory card?” Bobbi asked.

“No, the first batch. I managed to decrypt one of them.” She paused, probably for dramatic effect, but Hunter clearly wasn’t in the mood for games.

“And?” he asked impatiently.

Daisy deflated a little bit. “I found a bunch of bidding paperwork.”

“They’ve got multiple security contracts. Believe me, we’ve checked it out. It’s all on the up and up.” He lifted one shoulder.

“Okay, but like, not just their bids. I mean, I found the paperwork of _everyone_ who filed a bid for the contracts.” Daisy emphasized.

Hunter frowned. “Hang on, they’ve got the applications of everyone who bid?”

“Yes!” Daisy beamed at him, good humor restored.

“Is that normal?” Bobbi asked, glancing at Hunter.

“No,” he said. He didn’t make eye contact, but at least he’d stopped ignoring her.

“And they’re dated _prior_ to when the contracts were awarded,” Daisy announced triumphantly.

“That’s definitely not standard procedure,” Hunter said, a gleam in his eye. “And very, very illegal.”

Daisy let out a little whoop. “Good job, Donnie!”

“Wait,” Bobbi said, almost sorry to have to ask when Hunter sounded so much like himself again. “So, they killed Donnie and a federal agent to, what, stop them from exposing they’ve been cheating the system? Wouldn’t it be easier to just deny it, or pay a fine or whatever?”

“Maybe,” Hunter said. “Can you make me a copy?” He tapped his fingers against his mouth and Bobbi resisted the urge to touch her own, the echo of their kiss lingering on her lips. It had been a stupid, impulsive thing to do and something they should probably talk about, even if Hunter preferred pretending it never happened at all.

“Printouts or digital?” Daisy said with the practiced ease of someone who worked with Mack.

“Printouts,” Hunter said. “We’ve been having a little…difficulty with some of our digital files on this case.”

“No problem!” Daisy chirped, and then disappeared down the hall.

“Hunter,” Bobbi said as he headed for her office door. He didn’t slow down. “Lance.”

He stopped but didn’t turn around, his shoulders tense. “Barbara.”

Fantastic. Not only was he going to act like nothing happened, he was going to be angry about it. She knew she’d messed up, but she just missed the old them, the partners who shared everything from theories to toothbrushes. She’d thought—well, more hoped—that if she couldn’t have everything, she could at least keep this little piece of him, this slice of his life he was so proud of, that he’d worked so hard to get. 

“Can we at least-”

“I don’t have time for this,” he interrupted. “Let’s just skip to the end, yeah? It was a mistake, you’re not interested in reliving the past, we’re wrong for each other, whatever, I get it. I’ve got work to do, and I’m sure you do too. I’ll see you later.”

He left without another word, leaving her staring at the empty doorway and struggling not to chase after him.

She wasn’t interested in reliving the past, that was true, but not for the reasons he believed. Having him back in her life had opened wounds she’d thought had started to heal. Maybe they were wrong for each other, but she’d never stop loving him.

That was the problem.

\---

Hunter slipped through Vic’s office door, closing it behind him. She waved him in but continued barking into the phone about hard drives and digital footprints and the sort of thing that told him there’d been little progress on recovering Donnie’s case files from wherever they’d disappeared to.

Luckily, Daisy had found them something even better.

He set the paperwork he’d brought from the Jeffersonian on Vic’s desk and prowled around the room, poking at the shelves. He used to spend a lot more time in this office before he’d banished himself to the analyst department. The clutter of legal books and knick-knacks from places she and Izzy had traveled were almost the same as he remembered. He picked up a new item, a heavy turquoise-colored rock in the shape of a heart, and tried to guess where they’d gone. Arizona? The Grand Canyon? Bobbi would know, but since he’d stormed out in a huff after that kiss it probably wasn’t the kind of idle conversation they’d be having anytime soon.

Why the bloody hell she’d decided to kiss him, he hadn’t a clue. Well, he could guess, but none of the explanations were good ones. The simplest answer might not always be the right one, but in this case, it certainly made the most sense. Cases that hit a little too close to home were easier to deal with when paired with a little comfort, and they’d always been compatible in the bedroom.

The worst of it was, he wanted to give in, even when he knew it’d crush the tattered remains of his heart when she inevitably left. Again.

“Where did you get this?” Vic’s voice made him jump, and he spun around, automatically straightening his shoulders. She’d finished her phone call at some point and was going through the documents Daisy had printed up for him.

“Squints,” he said. “On the memory cards from Donnie’s apartment.”

Vic spread the paperwork out on her desk, a thoughtful frown on her face. “You think these are the real deal?”

Hunter shrugged. “Guess we can put in a request for the originals and find out.”

She glanced up at him. “It’s not quite the bombshell Donnie led us to believe.”

“No,” he agreed.

Bobbi had questioned that too. Her instincts were sharp, despite being a scientist and not an agent. He should have acknowledged it at the time, but his brain had been a little busy processing their kiss. If only he’d been better at keeping their roles separate, maybe he wouldn’t have screwed up and that kiss could have been a promise instead of a painful reminder of what he’d lost.

Hunter shook his head, refocusing. “Still, this means someone’s feeding them inside information on the contract bids. Looks like we’re not the only agency that’s been compromised.”

Vic frowned at the paperwork. “I’ll call Talbot later. He’s not going to be happy.”

Hunter pulled a face, glad he wasn’t the one who’d have to deal with the General. He tossed the rock up in the air and caught it again before placing it on Vic’s desk. “Any news on the surveillance equipment I brought in for processing?”

“Nothing yet,” Vic said. She reached out and snagged the turquoise heart, moving it to the far corner of her desk. “Is there some particular reason you insisted it be processed here? You know the Jeffersonian probably would have prioritized it and Fitz put together half the equipment we’re using.”

He lifted one shoulder. “Better for us to do it, chain of evidence and all that.”

“Cut the crap, Hunter. Is the Jeffersonian compromised?”

Dropping into the chair in front of her desk, he glared at her. “No, of course not.”

She nodded once, stroking one finger across the turquoise heart. Vic made a good show of appearing as unsentimental as possible, but he didn’t miss the connection between the tourist trinket and Dr. Isabelle Hartley. If the Jeffersonian had been compromised, Vic would be down there in a heartbeat.

Clearing her throat, Vic swiftly swept the rock into a desk drawer. “Good. We’ve got enough to deal with as it is. Look, if the guys here haven’t cracked into it yet, maybe you could-”

“No,” Hunter barked sharply.

Vic raised her eyebrows. 

He ground his teeth together, trying to rein in his temper before replying. “We can’t take a chance it’ll transmit anything from the lab back to whoever planted it. There’s no need to give them a peek at the evidence.”

“Or the chance to identify anyone in the lab?” 

He chose to take that as rhetorical and didn’t answer.

Vic let the silence stretch out for a minute, but any hope he had of a subject change was quickly dashed. “How is it working with the squints again?”

Hunter narrowed his eyes. “Fine.”

“I heard they had some new members of the team,” she said, like she wasn’t fully aware she was poking a sore spot. “Any issues?”

“No.”

“Good,” Vic said. “It’s nice to see you out of the bolthole you’ve exiled yourself to.”

“I thought it was time for a change.”

“I think you’re hiding.”

“Have there been any problems with my intel?”

“No,” Vic leaned back in her chair, her face impassive. “But you make a better field agent than an analyst.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

“Yes. Mine, which is the one that counts. Tell me you’re not enjoying being out there again.”

She eyed him across the desk and Hunter did his best not to squirm. When he’d been a brand-new agent, fresh out of the Academy and ready to take on the world, sitting in this chair across from Vic had felt like being sent to the headmaster’s office. Over the years, she’d become a good friend, but she still had the power to make him feel like a misbehaving child. 

“It’s not bad,” he said cautiously.

The flicker of a smile crossed her face. “Good. Then maybe when this is over, you should reconsider your transfer.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“And I don’t think one of my best agents should be stuck in a cubicle for the rest of his career.” Vic folded her hands on her desk, her eyes boring into him. “Think about it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said automatically, hesitating before broaching the real reason he’d made the trek to the office. Favors were always harder to turn down in person. “Actually, there is one issue.” Besides the obvious problem of not being over his ex, which he wasn’t about to share.

“What’s that?”

“Most of the squints aren’t field trained, or armed,” he said. “I could use an extra pair of eyes.”

“Izzy and Dr. Morse are both capable of assisting you,” Vic said.

Hunter bristled. She knew exactly how he felt about Bobbi in the line of fire, even though she was back to being Dr. Morse, squint, instead of the woman he woke up next to every morning. “You know they’re not a replacement for a full-time agent, and they’ve got their own work to do. If I could just have Idaho-”

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Vic called, her tone irritated.

An agent Hunter didn’t recognize entered with a manila folder emblazoned with the FBI logo in his hand. The man nodded at Vic, his dark hair slicked back away from his face. He barely acknowledged Hunter.

“What is it?” Vic asked.

“Tech sent a report, I think it’s for you.” He crossed the room and set the folder on her desk.

Hunter exchanged glances with Vic. “Why do you have it?” Hunter asked.

The agent's sharp eyes swept over Hunter before he turned back to Vic, summarily dismissing him. “Looks like it was meant for the man who used to have my office, figured I’d pass it on.”

“Thank you,” Vic said, nodding toward Hunter. “Agent Bakshi, this is Agent Hunter, your predecessor.”

This time Bakshi’s once-over took a little longer. Hunter wasn’t sure what the guy was looking for, but he wasn’t about to give him anything.

“Agent Hunter, nice to put a face to the name,” Bakshi said, dipping his chin. He made no move to leave.

“Was there something else?” Vic asked pointedly, tapping her fingers on the file folder but not opening it.

“No, ma’am,” Bakshi said, his shoulders stiffening. He spun on his heel and exited the office, closing the door behind him with a little more force than necessary.

Hunter fought a grin. That one wasn’t going to last long. Vic didn’t take any form of insubordination lightly. 

Vic had opened the folder and was frowning at the contents. 

“Anything good?” he asked.

She looked up, her gaze hard. “According to this, the surveillance equipment you brought in was, and I quote, ‘in unrepairable condition’.” She pushed a photograph in his direction.

The bugged clock he’d found in Donnie’s apartment was barely recognizable. The face had been smashed in and the electronic components attached to the back had been reduced to chunks of circuit board and wire. “This isn’t how I turned it in.”

“I didn’t think so. How many memory cards did you find?”

“Four yesterday, another one today.” 

Vic reached for her phone. “Destroying evidence is a surefire way to confirm we’ve got a mole in the office. It’s a sacrifice play. I’m willing to bet there’s a lot more to this than a little bid-fixing.”

“Sure as hell looks that way,” Hunter said, glaring at the destroyed clock. Fuck, if he’d just let the squints have it they might have gotten a line on a suspect instead of continuing to fumble in the dark.

“We’ve got a problem in processing,” Vic snapped into the phone. “Code Red. No one talks to them without me.” She slammed the receiver down and stood, her jaw set. “You can have Idaho tomorrow. Now let’s go flush out this rat.”

\---

“Anything new?” Bobbi said from the doorway of Daisy’s lab.

“Nada,” Daisy said, poking at a tablet. “Sorry. How about you?”

“Same.”

“I’m going to let everything run overnight,” Daisy said. “We’ll find something.”

“I hope so,” Bobbi sighed. She’d spent all afternoon poring over x-rays, both Donnie’s and those of the FBI agent who’d been killed with him. Cause of death wasn’t the tricky part, not with the picture-perfect bullet holes in their skulls, it was the who and why she needed to figure out.

Well, help Hunter figure out.

He hadn’t been back since the…incident, in her office, which meant he was definitely mad at her. They weren’t supposed to kiss anymore, she knew that, but the knowledge that he’d do everything he could to avoid it left her feeling hollow inside.

The agent’s body was being released to the family tomorrow, but Donnie’s was staying with them a while longer. Maybe permanently, if the silence from his distant relatives was any indication. His parents were long gone and he didn’t have any siblings. He was just the kind of lonely kid a shady organization that valued secrecy would recruit.

Fitz hadn’t said anything, but Bobbi had a feeling he was planning on footing the bill for a funeral once this was all over. She’d have to make sure things with Hunter were back on an even keel before then, so they could both show their support. Fitz had been more animated since he’d come back from the diner and she’d bet Hunter had worked a little of his magic on her colleague. Despite projecting that he was more muscle than brains, he had a way of getting people to open up. It was nice to see a little of Fitz’s humor resurfacing from the cloud of sadness that’d enveloped the lab over the last couple of days. 

Bobbi’s cell rang, startling her. “Iz?” she said, answering the call. She looked around the lab but didn’t spot her friend.

“You heading home?” Izzy asked.

“Just about to.”

“Swing by my office first?”

“Of course,” Bobbi said, waving goodbye to Daisy. “See you in a sec.”

She hung up and knocked on Izzy’s door perfunctorily before slipping inside. Izzy was frowning at her computer, but the moment she spotted Bobbi, she stood and twisted the monitor so they both could see it.

“I got the tox screen back,” Izzy said. “It’s…not what I expected.”

Bobbi squinted at the rows of “unknown” with a listing of possibilities under it and frowned. “Why are there so many unknowns? Did the sample get contaminated?”

“The lab swears it wasn’t. I’ve asked for a re-test and some follow-ups, so we’ll hopefully get a more in-depth analysis soon. I also gave a few environmental samples to Mack to make sure it’s not something external interfering with the screen, but for right now…” Izzy trailed off. “The injection site I found isn’t a common one, and it’s definitely not a spot you pick yourself.”

“You think someone was dosing him with something?” Bobbi scanned the rest of the report, but nothing else jumped out at her.

“Either that or kids these days are wilder than we were.”

“I’ll have you know I was a perfect angel.”

“I’m sure,” Izzy snorted, spinning the monitor back to its normal position. “Did you notice anything unusual about the bones?”

“Maybe. The FBI sent over some of Donnie’s old medical records and while I’m still worried about the possibility of torture, the pattern looks more like he’s been moonlighting as an MMA fighter instead of working I.T.”

Izzy frowned. “All the injuries are recent?” 

“Recent, but also completely healed. They’re not all consistent with defensive wounds either.” 

“The actual bones should be ready for you by now.”

Bobbi glanced over her shoulder at the quiet lab. “Maybe I’ll get started tonight.”

“Need a hand?” Izzy shrugged at Bobbi’s quizzical look. “Vic called a little while ago. She’s going to be tied up most of the night.”

“Everything okay?” Bobbi asked.

“It’s Vic, so I’ll never know for sure unless I hear actual gunfire, but I’m guessing not. She said we’re getting a new agent in the morning.”

Bobbi’s heart nearly stopped. “Hunter’s off the case?”

“Another agent in addition to Hunter,” Izzy clarified, giving her a shrewd look.

“Right,” Bobbi said, trying to catch her breath.

“You know,” Izzy said, casually perching on the edge of her desk. “One might say you’re awfully invested in having him on this case. Almost like there’s a personal element here.”

“Well, one might be mistaken. I just want the best people for my team.”

“And he’s the best.”

“Yes.”

“Despite what happened last time you two worked together?”

Bobbi tensed. “He didn’t mess that up. I did.” Izzy lifted a questioning eyebrow and Bobbi braced herself, even though she knew Izzy had seen the report. “I should have left my equipment in the car and made sure the scene was clear first. What happened wasn’t Hunter’s fault.”

“Have you told him this?”

“Of course I-” Bobbi cut herself off. “It doesn’t matter. That’s all in the past. Hunter and I are adults and know how to behave ourselves.” The corners of Izzy’s lips twitched, and Bobbi narrowed her eyes. “And I’ll be fine for tonight, thanks. I prefer doing the prelim myself.”

“Okay, well, offer’s on the table.” Izzy stood and stretched. “If you need to talk about anything else, I’m available for that, too.”

“I know,” Bobbi said, trying to smile. Part of her wanted to tell Izzy about the kiss she’d been stewing over all day, but that kind of undermined her argument that keeping Hunter on the case was purely a professional consideration. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Izzy said. “In the meantime, I’ll get out of your hair. Be safe.”

Bobbi thought guiltily of the gun tucked into her desk drawer upstairs. It seemed silly to carry it in the lab, with 24-hour security and high tech everything around her, but she’d promised Hunter, and she’d be damned if she failed again. 

A little extra weight on her ankle wasn’t going to distract from her examination. There were more important things for her to worry about, like what the hell Donnie had wanted to tell them before he died, and why it’d gotten him killed.

Kissing Hunter might be off-limits, but finding evidence to help him solve this case was a different sort of love, and she’d settle for that.


	6. Chapter 6

“I think we might have to call it for the night,” Vic sighed, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m not sure what else we can do without more from the Jeffersonian.”

Hunter drummed his pen against the stack of papers still on his lap. It felt like there was more to do still, but Vic was probably right. They had organized all the bidding documents and roughed out a timeline of HYDRA’s underbidding, but that had created more questions than answers. It seemed like in recent months HYDRA had actually slowed down on its deception. Hunter didn’t get the impression they were doing so out of any desire to become above-board, which meant the resources were being diverted elsewhere - but to _what_ was unclear.

“The squints should have more for us in the morning,” Hunter said. “It would’ve been nice if Donnie had left a ‘start here’ sticky note.”

“It was nice of him to leave us anything at all,” Vic chided. “We don’t know if him passing this information was what got him killed in the first place.”

“I know,” Hunter sighed. He had to be grateful to Donnie for all the information he had been able to smuggle; it wasn’t every day a CI went above and beyond what they were asked for. Donnie had obviously been special in more ways than one. More than that, he had been special _to_ someone. He had been Fitz’s friend. Wishing for more from a dead man was selfish, and it felt wrong.

Speaking of Fitz… “I’m going to go give a call to one of the squints. The one who knew the victim. Make sure he really didn’t know anything.”

“Stop pretending I don’t already know you’re a softie,” Vic said, beginning to reorder the papers they had been flipping through into their original state. “Give the kid a call and _don’t_ ask him about the case.”

“Yes ma’am.” Hunter ducked out of Vic’s office, checking to make sure the hallway was clear before dialing Fitz’s number. The phone rang twice before the line connected.

“Hunter?” Fitz seemed to be surprised Hunter had called, which wasn’t unexpected. Fitz had never worked with Hunter or learned he was a softie, as Vic put it. At least one of the squints would believe he was a hardened FBI agent for a little longer.

“Hey, mate. How are you doing?”

“Um, fine?” Fitz asked. “Are you calling about Bobbi?”

“Why would I be calling about Bob?” Hunter asked, furrowing his brow. If something had happened he would’ve heard about it, wouldn’t he?

“Oh. Daisy said you two used to be together and I thought -”

“I wanted to see how _you_ were, Fitz.” Hunter interrupted before they could go on a trip down memory lane. He knew his history with Bobbi, and he didn’t particularly enjoy it being the subject of lab gossip. “I know it’s not easy to lose a friend and I told you I’d be here if you wanted to talk. Checking in is part of the deal.”

“I - I’m not ready to talk yet.” Fitz stuttered. Hunter hadn’t considered that, but working on solving your friend’s murder required some emotional distance; it would take time for Fitz to allow himself close enough to feel. “But I’ll call you when I am. Promise.”

“Alright.” Hunter paused, trying to think of something else to say - an assurance that it was alright to take time, maybe? All he came up with was, “Have a nice night.”

“Oh, Hunter,” Fitz said right as he was about to hang up. “Bobbi stayed late at the lab. If you did, um, want to check on her.”

Hunter hadn’t been planning on checking in on Bobbi, but apparently his warning about being safe had fallen on deaf ears. Now he had to make sure she wasn’t going to get herself killed by a corrupt corporation.

Hunter stomped back into Vic’s office and swiped his keys off her desk.

“Thirty seconds is not long enough for you to be this pissed,” Vic observed. “What happened?”

“My ex-girlfriend is an idiot. I need to go to the Jeffersonian,” he answered, voice clipped.

“I don’t like those two sentences together.” Vic, no doubt, was thinking of Izzy, and Hunter couldn’t blame her. He and his boss were both in love with badass geniuses who had a habit of biting off more than they could chew.

“I don’t like saying them, but here we are.” Hunter forced himself to take a deep breath. It wasn’t Vic he was mad at - it was Bobbi. Apparently all he was good for was kissing, because she hadn’t heard a damn word he said before that point; if she had, she’d chosen to ignore it, which stung even worse.

“Don’t speed,” Vic said drily as Hunter ducked out the door.

“No promises!”

\---

“What the hell are you thinking?!”

Bobbi nearly jumped out of her skin, then sighed when she saw the cause of the noise, standing in the entrance of the doorway to the bone room. “I don’t know what you mean, Hunter.”

“You do know there’s only two night guards in the Jeffersonian, correct? For the _entire_ museum? And it’s entirely possible that if something happened to you neither of them would be able to get here in time?” Hunter stalked over to the table with the bones, and Bobbi placed herself between him and it before he could do something stupid like compromise evidence.

“I have my gun.” As proof she grabbed it out of its holster, extending it to Hunter so he could confirm it was loaded. He didn’t take the gun, though, instead continuing his tirade.

“Bob, if I hadn’t said anything you wouldn’t have even noticed I was here!” Bobbi couldn’t even protest that, because it was true. She _hadn’t_ noticed Hunter, because without her undivided attention on the bones, she was likely to miss something. Even with only focusing on the bones, Bobbi kept feeling like there was something she wasn’t grasping. She had hoped being alone without the distractions of daily life at the Jeffersonian would give her the mental clarity she needed to make the next breakthrough in the case, but she hadn’t had any luck. All she’d found was bone remodelling that didn’t nearly match with the injuries they had on record for Donnie, but also didn’t seem to match any kind of torture Bobbi knew about. She’d made notes to talk to Izzy about it in the morning, since the older woman was more well-versed in various forms of torture around the world, but before Bobbi could open her mouth and inform Hunter of her findings, he continued steamrolling over her.

“Even if you had noticed, do you really think you’re a quicker draw than whoever HYDRA would send to cross you off?”

“You’re being melodramatic, Hunter!” Bobbi snapped. The chances HYDRA would send an assassin after her were next-to-none, but Hunter had been his annoying brand of overprotective since she had gotten her face caught on the camera in Donnie’s apartment. “No one wants to hurt me, and even if they did, I don’t need you to be playing hero.” She swallowed hard. Hunter’s overprotective streak was something she had learned to live with when they were together, but never enjoyed. Now that she knew the extent he would take it to and everything he would do for her, she had to keep him away. Kissing him hadn’t been the smartest way to keep him at arm’s length, but it had been a moment of weakness.

“You are the most brilliant forensic anthropologist in the world, of course they’re going to want to hurt you! They know there’s something on Donnie’s body that will give us the key to taking them down, and they want to make sure you never get the chance to find it.” Reassurances about her brilliance aside, all Hunter was doing was convincing Bobbi she was exactly where she needed to be. She wouldn’t find the key to the case without actually looking at the body. “And protecting you is my _job_ now, Barbara, so let me do it!”

“Is protecting me your job, or is solving the case?” Bobbi asked. “Because last time I checked, you getting the two confused is what ruined your life!”

Hunter’s face went slack, and Bobbi knew she had scored a hit. He looked like he was trying to muster a response, but then his entire demeanor changed.

“Get down.”

“What -?”

Before Bobbi could finish her sentence, Hunter shoved her and she stumbled. A gunshot rang out, clipping the edge of the monitor where Bobbi’s head had just been. A moment later a tall, broad figure appeared in the doorway, gun arm still extended. Dazedly, Bobbi realized she still had her own gun out of its holster. She raised it, trying to remember what Hunter had taught her when they were on the firing range, but everything was so different now with the adrenaline fogging her vision and making her shaky and steady all at once. Bobbi forced herself to focus and squeezed the trigger when she was certain she wouldn’t accidentally hit Hunter.

Another shot popped off, and as quickly as he had come, the man disappeared. Hunter ran out of the room and fired a shot of his own, but Bobbi had barely been able to process his leaving before he was back again.

“With me, now.” Hunter grabbed her hand and tugged.

“The bones -”

“Barbara.” Hunter whirled around to face her. “Someone just _shot at you_. We are not talking about the bones, we are not _thinking_ about the bones, until you are safe at home. This is not negotiable.”

“But -”

“What part of not negotiable are you not understanding?” Hunter asked. “Now come on, we don’t know if he was alone or not.” 

This time when Hunter pulled at her, Bobbi followed. Hunter led them out of the lab gun-first, and didn’t relax until they were both strapped into the seats of his SUV. He took a deep breath before letting his head fall forward onto the steering wheel, and Bobbi’s heart twisted. She had only ever seen that look a few times before, and every single time it was when Hunter felt like he had failed his job in some way.

The last time she had seen it was when things had fallen apart.

She wanted to reach over and comfort him, but he had made it more than clear he didn’t want to be involved with her and she should’ve been better about reining in her own emotions.

“You seem oddly unfazed for someone who was just shot at,” Hunter said when he sat back up.

“Maybe I’m in shock,” Bobbi offered. She didn’t want to reveal the real reason she had never managed to move past surprised to afraid - she knew Hunter would protect her. They had _just_ been talking about how he would protect her, and her fear had never been he wouldn’t; it was that he would, and he’d go too far again.

“I need to call Vic,” Hunter said, scrubbing at his face. 

“I can call her and put it on speaker. You drive.”

Hunter nodded and Bobbi bit her lip. Maybe she wasn’t in shock, but Hunter seemed to be, and she wasn’t sure it was the best idea for him to drive. Saying that to his face wouldn’t go over well, though. Right now Hunter needed to be in control, and there was nothing more antithetical to that need than literally being taken out of the driver’s seat.

Explaining what had happened to Hand was not going to be fun, especially because Izzy would most certainly hear about it. Nothing in the world could piss Iz off more than someone compromising the Jeffersonian.

“This is Hand.” Vic’s voice was crisp even past the distorted rumble of the speakerphone.

“Are you with Izzy?” Hunter asked.

“Yes. What’s going on, Hunter? Why are you calling from Bobbi’s phone?”

“We were just at the Jeffersonian. Someone took a shot at Bob.”

“Oh, _shit_.”

“We both got a shot in, and I saw blood so I think one of them winged him. But I don’t know if he was alone and if someone’s going after the squints…” Bobbi couldn’t help but notice Hunter hadn’t taken credit for being the one to hurt the shooter, even though it was far more likely he had hit their target than she had. 

“I’ll send agents to do wellness checks on all of them,” Vic said. “I’ll need statements from both of you in the morning, and I need to call the Jeffersonian and - wait, you’re both alright?” Vic made a noise like she was appalled she had just now thought to ask the question, but Bobbi couldn’t blame her. From a logistical perspective, this was a nightmare.

“We’re fine. I’m going to stay at Bobbi’s place to make sure they don’t get a second chance at her.” Bobbi bit back a soft, shocked sound when Hunter mentioned staying the night. She assumed he was going to drop her off and let her be, just like he had the night before. With the circumstances it would make sense that plans would change, but…

“I’ll keep you in the loop. Stay safe.”

“You too.”

Bobbi hung up the phone, then cleared her throat. “You’re staying the night?”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Hunter said shortly, as if her primary concern was going to be where he slept.

“You don’t have to -”

“For the last time, Bob, someone tried to _kill_ you.” Hunter’s nostrils flared and he ripped his gaze off the road to give her perhaps the most intense stare Bobbi had ever seen. “I’m not leaving you alone until I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

There was no rational response to what he said other than agreement, so Bobbi ducked her head and let him drive her home.

\---

Hunter sank onto the couch and resisted the urge to scream.

His sweep of Bobbi’s apartment had been clean, but that didn’t change what had happened at the Jeffersonian and Bobbi’s response to it. She didn’t even seem to _care_ , and that frustrated him even more than the fact someone had shot at her.

Well, maybe not more. But he also wasn’t in love with the man who had shot at her, and _also_ also wasn’t about to spend the night in his apartment.

The place still felt familiar, which only added insult to injury. Before things had gotten bad he and Bobbi had spent virtually every night at his place - Bobbi keeping her apartment was mostly a formality. The last time he had been here was even before he had… well, before.

“You okay?” Bobbi asked as she sat down next to him.

“I should be asking you that.” This was his job, what he was supposed to be good at; what happened at the Jeffersonian and Bobbi’s response to it shouldn’t have shaken him.

“I’m fine.” She hesitated, and Hunter waited for her to say more. She never did.

“I don’t regret it,” Hunter said after the silence had nearly swallowed them whole. 

“Regret what?”

“The choice I made that day. I don’t regret protecting you.” Sure, he regretted everything that came after that - putting Idaho in danger most of all - but protecting Bobbi was never going to be something he would doubt. 

“Hunter…”

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted, turning to face her. “I don’t need to know why we kissed in your office, I don’t really care, but -”

Bobbi’s mouth covered his and Hunter lost track of any thought unrelated to this exact moment in time. His hands still ached from his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, but the moment he threaded his fingers through Bobbi’s hair the pain faded to nothing more than background noise. Everything was background noise, because he was kissing Bobbi and she was kissing him and it was everything he had been craving the last six months. Her lips parted and his tongue slipped in on instinct, his fingers tightening in her hair when he realized just how little about her he’d forgotten.

He kept waiting for the inevitable stop, for Bobbi to pull away like she had earlier that day, but it never came. Instead she clambered onto his lap, their mouths still fused together. Hunter’s body responded almost immediately to the weight on top of him, blood rushing south as Bobbi settled. She began toying with the short hairs at the base of his skull, the ones that always made him shiver when they were pulled on just so, and that was the end for Hunter.

“What do you want, Bob?” he asked, panting. He could see where this was going if neither of them stopped it - they were both hopped up on the unique drug that was a near-death experience and the cocktail of adrenaline and cortisol and oxytocin that came with it.

“You,” she whispered. “I want you.”

“Be more specific.” If that was all she said his stupid heart was going to go on believing there was a part of her that still loved him and regretted walking away.

“I want to have sex with you,” Bobbi said, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “if you want to have sex with me.”

Hunter didn’t have the mental energy to summon a response that wasn’t helpless whimpering, so he kissed her again. At least this time he would know it was the last time they were going to be together - at least this time he knew she was going to walk away when it was over.

He stood awkwardly, hands automatically cradling Bobbi’s arse to hold her up while she wrapped her legs around his waist. If this was going to be their last time together, it sure as hell wasn’t going to happen on a couch. 

Muscle memory more than anything led him to the bedroom, and by the time he collapsed onto the bed Bobbi was already working on unbuttoning his shirt. She rolled on top of him and began snaking a line of kisses down his chest and stomach with each new button she opened.

“Bob,” Hunter said hoarsely. He was already hard without the mental images of her wrapping her lips around his cock.

She seemed reluctant to abandon what she was doing, but Bobbi did return to his head, if only so she could push his button-up off his shoulders. He tugged at the hem of her shirt and peeled it off her when she obediently raised her arms. The bra she was wearing was white and simple, but it might as well have been the skimpiest lingerie with how it was affecting him. The plain fabric against her sun kissed skin was enough to remind him they had spent the summer apart and conjure up a hundred images of everything he had missed. Hunter grappled with the clasp of the bra for a moment, fingers unused to the motion after six months out of practice. 

“Beautiful,” Hunter murmured when Bobbi’s bra fell away. He always thought she was gorgeous, but if he said it now she would think he was talking to her tits and things wouldn’t get any more complicated than they already were. Her tits were beautiful too by virtue of being attached to Bob, but Hunter wouldn’t have found them nearly so fascinating on anyone else.

Bobbi didn’t answer him, just began working on undoing his belt. Hunter took his cue from her and helped her shimmy out of her trousers, sucking in a breath when he saw the crotch of her panties - the same simple white cotton as her bra - were soaked through almost to the point of translucency. He slid two of his fingers along her crotch and Bobbi shuddered, the muscles in her stomach clenching until his miniature exploration was complete.

“What’s gotten you so worked up, darlin’?” he drawled. He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it as many times as he could. Even if she didn’t love him, her body wanted his body. 

“There’s a naked man in my bed,” Bobbi answered, unperturbed.

“Not naked yet,” Hunter smirked up at her.

“You could fix that.” She had succeeded in discarding his belt, but it was marginally more difficult for her to get his pants off while she was still straddling him. Rather than do the smart thing and get off of him for a moment, Bobbi scooted further up his body so she was straddling his stomach rather than his hips. That left Hunter staring right up at her amazing cleavage, which naturally made it more difficult to coordinate his movements.

When he did manage to get his jeans off Bobbi wriggled back down to her previous position, grinding against his stomach and hips so enticingly it should have been illegal. The final scrap of fabric between them was unceremoniously discarded when Bobbi threw her knickers on the floor.

Hunter arched into Bobbi’s touch when she took his cock in her fist. He had been doing an admirable job of ignoring how hard he was by focusing on her, but now there were no more distractions; his prick ached and the slow, smooth strokes Bobbi was making only built the pressure.

“Please, love.” They didn’t have time for teasing. If they had, Hunter’s head would be between Bobbi’s thighs and not on her pillow.

Bobbi nodded and guided his cock to her entrance, Hunter’s hands on her hips steadying her when she sank down

“Oh, _God_ ,” Hunter breathed. His memories hadn’t done Bobbi justice. Nothing could really capture the tight, wet heat of her cunt around him, the slightest edge of pain when her nails dug into his skin, or the bliss written on her face when she circled her hips. No matter how much he would fantasize about this moment in the coming weeks, he’d never be able to get it just right, so he needed to appreciate it while he had it.

Appreciate he did. No detail was too small to be above his notice, from the glisten of sweat on Bobbi’s skin to the tantalizing flex of her muscles when she moved, the tickle of her hair on his skin and the way her eyelashes fanned across her cheeks when she got close, the flutter of her pussy around him and the steady thrum of her heart he could feel when he pressed his lips into her neck. Everything was beautiful, but everything was fleeting - nothing more so than Bobbi’s quivering moan when she came. The bedroom didn’t allow for echos but Hunter tried to press the moment into his mind like a flower between pages of a book, hoping he could capture at least a portion of its former beauty permanently.

He spilled into her a moment later, but his release wasn’t as satisfying as how Bobbi welcomed him back into her bed without question when he returned from cleaning himself up. Hunter scooped his gun up from the floor and placed it on the bedside table before getting into bed.

Bobbi curled in close to him, head tucked into his shoulder. Hunter didn’t dare kiss her, dare imply this was anything other than sex. They weren’t cuddling now because it meant anything; they both just needed someone close after everything that had happened.

She only fell asleep on his shoulder because he was taking up the pillow.

He didn’t whisper “I love you” into the darkness.

It didn’t mean anything.


	7. Chapter 7

Bobbi didn’t have to question for a moment who was in her bed when she woke up. The most obnoxious beeping noise cut through her fog of sleep like a pointy ulna to the ribs. Only one person she knew used that as a ringtone, which meant Hunter was still beside her. She’d half-expected him to sneak out to the couch in the middle of the night, but he must have crashed as hard as she did.

“Yeah?” Hunter asked, his voice rough with sleep.

She lay quietly, her head pillowed against his shoulder, and breathed him in, not quite ready to face the real world yet. If she kept her eyes closed, she could almost pretend their painful breakup hadn’t ever happened, and this was just another day. Just another case. Like before. His fingertips absently slid through her hair while he listened to the voice on the other end of the line and a contented sigh threatened to escape her lips, giving her away.

“Good,” Hunter said. “Thanks, Idaho. See if you can convince Iz to beef up security.”

Idaho said something else and Hunter’s hand stilled.

“She did? On one of the memory cards?”

Bobbi lifted her head, unable to feign sleep anymore. Morning sunlight filtering through the blinds painted stripes across Hunter’s bare chest, and she dragged her eyes up to find him watching her intently. Silently, she thanked Idaho for getting her out of what would have been an awkward conversation more than likely followed by a less awkward and more heart-wrenching argument.

They’d already proven she wasn’t any good for him, and he wasn’t about to stop being Hunter. One more night together didn’t change that. It couldn’t. 

“Gotcha. I’ll be in shortly.” He ended the call and sat up, turning his back on her. She tried not to take it personally. “Daisy’s found something,” he said, bending to search the floor. “Okay if I grab the first shower?”

Swallowing the need to ask if he wanted company, she nodded. “What did she find?”

“She’s briefing everyone in half an hour.” He stood, pulling his boxers up, and heading for the bathroom. “We need to get moving.” He paused in the doorway and looked back. “Everything okay?”

It was an opening, but one she couldn’t take. “Fine.”

He hesitated for a moment like he was thinking of asking some follow up questions, but then he closed the bathroom door instead.

She blew out a breath as she heard the shower start. “Oh yeah, everything’s just fine,” she muttered under her breath. Flinging the sheet aside, she went to hunt up some fresh clothes before he finished up. Hopefully, he’d take the presence of his favorite soap as a sign of her being too busy to toss out his things, instead of her hanging onto the last little bits of him she had left.

Her phone rang and she scrambled into a shirt before she picked it up. “Hello?”

“You alright?” Iz asked without preamble. “Vic filled me in.”

“I’m fine,” Bobbi said with more conviction this time. “What’d Daisy find?”

There was a brief pause. “She hasn’t said. You’re on your way in with Hunter, I presume?”

“Since he apparently thinks I can’t be trusted on my own, yes.” Bobbi dug through her underwear drawer and purposefully didn’t pick a cute pair because no one was going to see it. Especially not the man currently in her shower.

“You two still okay working together?” Izzy asked.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, exasperated. Clutching the phone tightly in her hand, Bobbi took a deep, calming breath. “Of course,” she said in more measured tones.

“Uh-huh,” Izzy replied, sounding amused. “Hey, see if you can convince Hunter to take it easy on security. Apparently, whoever broke in last night knew what he was doing. He was wearing a uniform, had an all-access pass, the works.”

Bobbi made a face at the phone. “You think that’s going to make Hunter more forgiving?”

Izzy sighed. “It was worth a shot.”

The shower in the bathroom shut off. “We’ll be there soon. Hey, the bones-”

“Secured,” Izzy said. “No one accessed the room until the FBI crime scene team arrived. They’re safe, and Vic said we should have the room back soon.”

“Good,” Bobbi said, relieved.

“We’ll find the bastards,” Izzy said.

“I know.”

Bobbi hung up just as Hunter emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping from his hair. “Bathroom’s free,” he said.

Heroically, she managed to keep her eyes above his neck this time. “Great, thanks.” She sailed past him, her head high, and closed the door before slumping against it with a groan. The tenderness he’d displayed last night was long gone and pretending she didn’t miss it was going to take a hell of a lot of willpower. Pretending she didn’t miss him was going to be nearly impossible.

“You’re fine,” she repeated under her breath.

Hopefully, at some point, she’d believe it. 

\---

“Here they are!” Daisy sang as Hunter pulled open the door to her office.

Only the tiny tic in Bobbi’s jaw told him how annoyed she was as he followed her inside. Whether she was annoyed because she was stuck with him until the case was over, or that people were assuming they were together again, or both, he wasn’t sure. 

For a few, beautiful moments this morning, it was like nothing had changed. Her body nestled against his, her nose tucked into the crook of his neck and her golden hair spilling across the pillow. There’d also been very little feeling in his arm, but it’d always been a small price to pay. Idaho’s phone call had probably saved him from making a complete arse of himself, but the reality check didn’t do much to ease the ache that’d apparently settled permanently into his chest.

He’d fucked up. Again.

He’d had a clean shot. How could he have missed? Oh, he might have winged the guy, but that wasn’t any consolation. If he’d been five minutes later—hell, two minutes—Bobbi wouldn’t be standing next to him now. He’d almost lost her. She’d been remarkably calm during and after the attempt on her life, but he felt like a bundle of exposed nerves.

Idaho nodded from across the room and the tension in Hunter’s shoulders eased slightly. He might not be reliable, but Idaho was as steady as they came. 

“Wonderful,” Izzy said dryly. “Now will you please tell us what you found?”

“Well,” Daisy said, tapping away on her tablet. “One of the things on the memory card Fitz and Hunter found yesterday was a backup of Donnie’s phone. Partial backup,” she amended. The image on the large screen next to her showed a bunch of file folders and she clicked on one. “No contacts, but some notes, a few surprisingly decent playlists, and these.” A flurry of photographs appeared on the screen, and Hunter heard Fitz’s sharp intake of breath as Donnie’s face appeared.

He looked a hell of a lot happier than the one solemn photo Vic had provided. And he wasn’t alone.

“Who the hell is that?” Hunter asked, gesturing at the smiling woman with dark hair cuddled up next to Donnie in most of the images. “Did Donnie have a girlfriend?”

Fitz shook his head. “Not that I ever heard. Wouldn’t the FBI know that?”

“His file got wiped,” Hunter growled in frustration. “Has anyone reported Donnie missing?”

“No,” Daisy shook her head. “I have an alert set up.”

“Maybe she’s HYDRA?” Mack said. “Could have been how they got the inside scoop on Donnie and your guy.” 

“It’s a possibility.” Hunter frowned. “What about the image data?”

“Wiped,” Daisy said. “Sorry. Donnie is seriously good at covering his tracks. Was, I mean.” She bit her lip and shot an apologetic look at Fitz. “I’m running her through DMV files, but if she’s licensed, it’s not in Virginia.”

“So we have an unidentified woman? That’s it?” Bobbi said, crossing her arms and propping up those lovely breasts under the thin, clingy material of her blouse. The sight sent Hunter’s brain down the dangerous path of imagining a repeat of last night that didn’t seem to be in the cards. She’d barely spoken to him after she’d emerged from the bathroom, the scent of his favorite soap lingering as she gathered up all that glorious hair into a ponytail. It was her no-nonsense look, and a neon sign saying no matter what had happened the night before, they were back in work mode.

Daisy held up one finger. “That’s not it,” she said cheerfully. “I also found this!”

She pulled up a document with a flourish, and Hunter frowned at the list of long, unfamiliar names. “More moths?” he asked.

“Actually, these are plants,” Mack said. “A lot of specialty ones. Daisy thought it might be more insect names too, but…”

“Okay, someone needs to connect the dots very quickly here,” Izzy said.

“They’re butterfly attractors,” Mack said, lifting a shoulder.

“What is with the butterflies?” Bobbi asked before Hunter could. He almost caught her eye and smiled like they used to when they had the same thought before remembering that wasn’t something they did anymore.

“No clue,” Daisy said. “But based on Donnie’s purchase history and this list, there’s basically only one place he might have been getting these plants from.” The website of a plant nursery with an address about halfway between Donnie’s apartment and the Zephyr Diner filled the screen.

“There weren’t any plants in his apartment,” Hunter pointed out. “Maybe it’s another code?”

“If it is, I’m not seeing it,” Fitz said.

“Butterfly plants,” Hunter sighed. “Sure, why not. Mack, you up for a field trip?”

“Take Bobbi too,” Izzy said.

“What?” Bobbi said, spinning around. “Shouldn’t I be examining the bones?”

“They haven’t released the bone room yet.” Izzy shrugged. “This could be a solid lead. Is there a problem?” 

Bobbi didn’t so much as glance in Hunter’s direction. “No,” she said.

Idaho shot him a questioning look as Hunter schooled his face into a neutral expression, hoping the hurt didn’t show.

“I’ll let you know if we ID the woman,” Daisy said. “We’re starting with the surrounding states and working our way out from there.”

“Sounds good.” Hunter nodded at her. “Send me a couple of those pictures. No luck on the other memory cards yet?”

She shook her head.

“Well,” he sighed. “I guess it’s time to see a man about some plants.”

\---

Bobbi stared up at the garden center sign and contemplated going to wait in the car. This felt like a wild goose chase, and worse, it felt like a wild goose chase that gave her way too much time to reflect on things like the attractiveness of forearms. Specifically, the forearms of one Special Agent Lance Hunter.

The drive over had been torture. He’d spend the whole time glaring out the windshield and flipping through the radio stations, one hand on the wheel, while Mack sat in the back and monologued about plants. Bobbi hadn’t caught a damn word, because Hunter had ditched his (to be fair, very wrinkled) blazer and chosen to roll up the sleeves of his white button-up that was only slightly mashed after spending the night on her floor. He hadn’t even bothered with the tie, and the five o’clock shadow on his chin was verging on full scruff.

In short, he was very distracting, the bastard.

No matter how many times she told herself she’d done the right thing breaking up with him, when faced with the man in question, doubt poked holes in her reasoning. Or maybe that was lust.

Seriously, no one had any right to look that good while scowling at a cheery green sign with ‘Roots and Shoots’ scrawled across it. 

“Uh, not that I’m telling you how to do your job, but I think we probably have to go inside if we’re going to question anyone,” Mack said. 

Hunter heaved a sigh. “I shouldn’t say this, because following leads is basic procedure, but something about this feels like a distraction.”

“You think this doesn’t have anything to do with Donnie’s case?” Bobbi asked, trying to peer through the small window crowded with hanging plants.

“I think,” Hunter said slowly, his tone thoughtful in a way that told her he’d been mulling this over for a while, “this isn’t all about his case. He left insurance, which was smart, but those memory cards could have been found by anyone. The diner though, and now this, it feels…I don’t know, personal.”

“Whatever it is, it’s nice to have something real to check out, instead of waiting for some machine to decipher a bunch of ones and zeros,” Mack said.

“Wait here,” Hunter said, and then he disappeared around the corner of the building. 

Mack narrowed his eyes at Bobbi as she continued examining the plants in the window. “What?” she asked. 

“We’re actually waiting here?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” Mack said, sounding exasperated. “Barbara, I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but…”

“Nothing,” she interrupted, lowering her voice.

“Nothing,” he repeated flatly. “Barbara, you haven’t so much as said his name in months, but now all of the sudden he’s the only one we can count on?” 

She winced. “It’s...complicated.” 

“So’s this case,” Mack said. “And I’m following along just fine.” 

“He’s good at what he does, and someone needed to remind him of that.” Bobbi took a breath, trying to dispel the utter rightness she’d felt waking up next to Hunter this morning. Fixing their professional relationship was the goal, she couldn’t let her emotions get in the way. “That’s all. You know he’s the right agent for this case.”

Mack studied her for a moment. “I also know when you’re hiding something.” 

“Maybe-” Bobbi swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Maybe some things just aren’t meant to be.”

“Nothing,” Hunter said, making Bobbi jump. He rounded the corner of the building and stopped in front of the window. “Shall we?” 

She nodded and Mack pulled the front door open. The scent of earth and greenery wafted out and the number of plants, not to mention the humidity, made it feel like stepping into the tropics.

“Ah, you did come in!” a woman exclaimed cheerfully from behind the counter. “I was wondering how long it would take you to make a decision.” Her hair hung in two long braids that fell past her shoulders and she maneuvered an enormous watering can with ease as she spoke, tending to a flat of colorful flowers.

“Great place,” Mack said, ducking under a cluster of trailing vines.

“Thank you.” The woman set aside her watering can and offered him a wide smile. “What can I do for you?”

Hunter opened his mouth, but Mack beat him to it, pulling out a piece of paper and setting it on the counter in front of the woman with a smile of his own. “We were hoping you might have a few of these plants.” He settled his hands on the counter and bent over it, pointing at a couple of the names. “The common name for  _ Asclepias tuberosa _ is-”

“Butterfly Weed,” the woman interrupted, picking up the list. “You’re looking to start a butterfly garden?”

“Something like that,” Hunter said, looking around the shop.

“The butterfly section is out back. I can show you.”

Mack tilted his head. “You’ve got a butterfly section?”

“And one for bees, and ladybugs, and others,” she said. “Insects are an important part of a healthy ecosystem.”

“That’s what I’m always saying.” Mack’s smile got wider. “Even if some people don’t appreciate them.”

“Fools,” the woman sniffed.

“Nice to know someone else has good taste,” Mack said. “Hey, have you heard the reason bee populations are down is because-”

Hunter cleared his throat.

“Sorry, getting ahead of myself, I’m Mack.”

“Elena.” She held out her hand and he shook it.

“You’ve got a great place here.”

“So you said,” Elena sounded bemused. “How big?” she asked.

“Me?” Mack pointed at himself. “I’m about six four.”

Elena laughed. “Must be very handy for reaching things. And your garden space?”

Bobbi hid her grin behind one hand, and she heard Hunter choke back a laugh. Their eyes met, and she quickly looked away again, her face heating. After last night, every little glance, every shared moment, chipped away at her resolve, but she refused to give in. She couldn’t, not if she meant to keep him safe. He may hate her for it, but that was better than losing him completely.

Her eyes drifted in Hunter’s direction again. He was poking at a display of succulents, but she’d bet he was paying attention to a lot more than that. She’d always admired his ability to appear utterly distracted while picking up on a thousand tiny clues so many people didn’t notice. Just like she could tell the story of someone based on the minute imperfections of their bones, he could decipher a person’s mood and motivations before they said a word. She’d missed this, watching him work. 

“Uh,” Mack said, glancing over his shoulder.

“We’re actually looking for a couple of gardeners,” Hunter said, pulling out his phone and opening one of the pictures Daisy had sent him. It was a selfie of Donnie and mystery woman, their cheeks pressed together and their smiles affectionate.

“You’re with the government,” Elena said, all the animation leaving her face.

“FBI,” Hunter said, flashing his badge.

“But we’re from the Jeffersonian,” Mack said quickly, pointing at himself and then Bobbi.

Her eyes flicked to him, expression softening and she leaned over the counter to study the photo. “What do you want with them?”

“We’re trying to help them,” Hunter said evasively. “Donnie’s a friend. Do you recognize her?” He pointed at the woman in the image. 

Squinting at him suspiciously, Elena lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”

There was a long moment of silence, and then Hunter sighed. “He’s dead,” he said quietly, showing Elena the picture again.

“Dead?” Elena straightened up, her eyes wide. “What happened?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Hunter said. “Can you help?” 

Elena chewed on her lower lip, clearly trying to make a decision.

“We’re worried something might have happened to her, too,” Hunter said, his voice low and serious. “Have you seen either of them recently?”

Slowly, the creases in Elena’s forehead smoothed out, and she shook her head. “Not since last month. They’re building a butterfly garden on their balcony. Donnie and Callie. I don’t remember her last name.”

Bobbi exchanged glances with Mack. Donnie’s shoebox apartment certainly hadn’t had a balcony.

“Do you have an address?” Hunter asked.

“I might?” She frowned at the computer perched on the corner of her counter. “Give me a second. Are you sure it’s him?”

“We’re sure,” Bobbi said.

“That poor boy,” she murmured. “Here we go, it’s not far.”

“Thank you, Elena,” Hunter said quietly, sliding a business card across the counter.

“I hope you catch the bastard,” she said.

“We will,” Mack told her. “We always do.” He grabbed Hunter’s business card and scribbled a phone number on the back of it. “In case, you know, he’s not available.” 

The corners of Elena’s lips twitched up slightly. “Next time, you’ll have to tell me about the bees.”

“Looking forward to it.”

\---

“This is much nicer than the last place,” Mack observed as they climbed out of the car.

The address Elena had directed them to was another large apartment block, though it wasn’t nearly as neglected as Donnie’s other apartment had been. The lobby door was closed and locked as opposed to being propped open with a rock, but it only took five randomly picked buttons for someone to buzz them all in. Not that secure, then.

Hunter slipped in, his hand resting on the gun on his hip, and started looking for the stairs. He held up two fingers to remind the others the apartment was on the second floor, which earned him a derisive grunt from Mack.

“Great, he’s getting all weird again,” Mack whispered. 

“It’s called being prepared,” Hunter hissed.

“It’s called paranoia,” Mack grumbled.

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Robot Uprising,” Bobbi said. Hunter looked back, surprised she was defending him, and something in his chest turned over as she pulled her gun out of her ankle holster. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was reminding him she was armed. 

“Great, now he’s got you doing it,” Mack said, shifting the heavy field bag on his shoulder as they climbed the stairs. In the distance, the elevator dinged, but the second-floor corridor was empty.

“Here it is.” Hunter frowned at the multiple retail flyers tucked between the doorknob and the jamb of apartment number 213.

“That’s not good,” Bobbi murmured.

He glanced over at her, taking in the determined stance, the textbook grip on her gun. He’d taught her that, before everything all went to hell. Before the knowledge that he might not always be around to protect her had truly sunk in.

“I don’t suppose you’ll wait here?” he said.

“No,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“Barbara-”

“Knock or I will,” she said.

Hunter glared, but she didn’t budge. A moment later he knocked, the loud raps echoing down the hall. “FBI!”

He strained his ears for any signs of life from the apartment, his heart sinking as the silence stretched on. Fuck. They’d failed Donnie on multiple levels. Had Callie been in the missing files? There’d been no mention of her in the brief they’d recovered, even though significant others were supposed to be taken into account on a protection detail.

“Ready?” Bobbi asked, watching him intently.

_ No _ . He wanted to say. He’d almost lost her once already on this case, and there were so many things that could go wrong. Whatever Donnie knew, it was big. The kind of secret HYDRA was willing to kill for. What part had Callie played in all this?

He went over his entry checklist again, trying to calm his racing heart. Lock intact, no major scratches around the keyhole, no strange smells or noises. Right now, Callie was just a girl who’d been important to Donnie, and who apparently loved butterflies.

“Ready,” he said, gritting his teeth and backing up a step. Taking aim, he slammed the heel of his boot against the door, as close to the lock as he could. The door shuddered but held.

“Callie?” Bobbi called.

Hunter kicked the door a second time and heard it crack. One of the doors down the hall opened, and then just as quickly closed again.

“Here we go,” he said.

Bobbi nodded, her eyes focused on the door, and he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss her. Instead, he lifted his foot and kicked the door open.

“FBI!” he called, sweeping the small room with his gun. A small loveseat and chair were shoved up against one wall with a television positioned opposite, and the curtains to the balcony were open, letting sunlight flood the space. There was a door to his left, and he turned to find Bobbi already opening it, standing so close her ponytail flicked across his shoulder. The scent of her shampoo filled his nose.

“Bathroom,” she said. “Clear.”

They passed through a small kitchen with dishes piled in the sink to check the bedroom, but it was just as empty as the rest of the house.

“If she’s not here, where is she?” Bobbi asked when Hunter finally holstered his gun. He stood in the living room and looked around. There were travel posters on the walls and throw pillows on the loveseat. An abandoned coffee cup sat on the tiny kitchen table. This place was lived in, unlike Donnie’s previous apartment.

“I have no idea.” He peered at a nearby framed photo. It was one of the images Daisy had sent him from Donnie’s memory card.

“At least she’s not dead?” Bobbi said.

“Just because her body’s not here doesn’t mean she’s not dead.”

“Very positive outlook, Hunter.” She rolled her eyes before setting one foot on a nearby chair and pulling her pant leg up to put away her gun, the movement graceful. Those same legs had been wrapped around him last night, but instead of easing the tension between them, sleeping together had left him second-guessing all the reasons she’d given him for walking away in the first place. It irked him no end that he couldn’t figure out what was going on in her head.

Everything about this case was confusing.

His phone rang, startling him, and he answered as Mack stepped into the living room. “Yeah?” Hunter said.

“Hey, it’s me, Daisy,” Daisy chirped. “We’ve got a name.”

“Callie?”

“How did you…well, fine, smart guy, do you want her address or not.”

“She’s not here. What else do you have?”

Daisy let out an exasperated sigh. “You know you could update me when you find out stuff so I’m not chasing down information we already know.”

“Next time.”

“Yeah, sure,” Daisy snorted. “Hey, remind Mack to sweep for bugs.”

Hunter opened his mouth to find Mack and Bobbi arguing over a small device in Mack’s hands, which let out a soothing, steady hum that told him no bugs were being detected. One bright spot in this whole mess. At least HYDRA wouldn’t know they’d found this place. “He’s on it.” 

“He is?” Daisy sounded surprised.

“Well, once he figures out what that noise means, he’ll be on it.”

Mack lifted his head to glare and Daisy laughed. “Okay, so, are you checking her work next?”

“Work?” Hunter said.

“Aha, you don’t know everything!” Daisy crowed.

Hunter rolled his eyes. “Where does she work?” Bobbi’s phone chimed, followed swiftly by a beep on Hunter’s line telling him he had an incoming call. Vic’s name came up and he met Bobbi’s eyes.

“Izzy just texted,” she said, holding up her phone.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” Hunter said, hanging up before Daisy could answer. “What happened?” he asked Vic without preamble.

“We’ve got another body,” Vic said. “Killed the same way as Woods and Donnie. I’m having it sent to the lab.”

Across the room, Bobbi nodded, obviously anticipating his next move. She stripped off the gloves she’d just pulled on and handed Mack the camera. 

Hunter headed for the front door. “We’re on our way.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Body’s on the platform,” Izzy said when Bobbi, Hunter, and Mack returned to the lab. The trio followed her up onto the platform, where the body was sitting on a stainless-steel table.

“What do we know about him?” Bobbi asked as she pulled on gloves.

“Just that he was killed the same way as Donnie and Agent Woods. Single shot to the back of the head, execution-style,” Izzy said. “We don’t have an ID -”

“He was the shooter,” Hunter interrupted.

“What?” Izzy asked.

“This is the guy who shot at Bob and me last night,” Hunter repeated. “I didn’t get a good look at his face but I recognize the tattoo.” He pointed to the victim’s left arm which had a tattoo stretching from his shoulder to elbow. It looked almost like it was supposed to resemble rock, and Bobbi furrowed her brow. She hadn’t even noticed the shooter had a tattoo, and even if she had she doubted she’d be able to recognize it with as much confidence as Hunter had. “There should be a bullet in him somewhere from where I winged him.”

“As much as I hate to say it, that still doesn’t help with ID,” Izzy said. She stood over the body and snapped a few pictures of the face with her digital camera. “DMV doesn’t have anything, and the tattoo doesn’t look like it’s from prison either, so that’s a non-starter.”

“Run his face through HYDRA’s employee database,” Hunter said. “I’d bet my arse he’s working for them.”

“Not a bad bet. I’ll get these to Daisy.” Izzy ducked away, and Bobbi had the distinct feeling Iz was trying to leave her alone with Hunter as much as humanly possible.

“So, you were the one who winged him, huh?” Bobbi asked, smirking.

“We both know who the better shot in this relationship is,” Hunter replied, his teasing smile matching hers.

“Yes, the Special Agent is a better shot than the scientist, we can pretend to be surprised now.” Bobbi rolled her eyes. “But I’m still competent, and you can’t pretend me hitting him wasn’t a possibility.”

“Do you know where he was hit, then? Because I do.”

Bobbi glared at him. So he had been the one to get the shot in this time - that _still_ didn’t mean she couldn’t protect herself. “Where?”

“Right side, upper body. Probably his arm, but I wouldn’t bet against the shoulder area either.”

Bobbi rounded the table and began inspecting the man’s right arm. “You’re sure you hit him?” This time she wasn’t teasing.

“Ninety-nine percent, yeah.” She could feel Hunter bristling at her implication, but there was no evidence he had hit the man at all. The only mark on his arm looked like a bullet wound, but there was no way it was from last night; the injury had scabbed over and almost healed. Bobbi rotated the arm to look at the other side, and frowned.

“What?”

“Give me a second.” Izzy was on the way back to the platform, and Bobbi needed another set of eyes. “Can you look at this for me?” Bobbi asked, pointing to the man’s arm. She assumed the two bullet holes were the entrance and exit wounds to a single shot, but something about it didn’t add up.

Bobbi stepped back to let Izzy get a closer look at the body, and the immediate furrow in Izzy’s brow told her everything she needed to know.

“What’s going on?” Hunter repeated. “Did I hit him or not?”

“You did,” Izzy confirmed. “But it should have killed him.”

Bobbi nodded. The path of the bullet would’ve transected the dead man’s brachial artery. He should have been unconscious in less than a minute, and dead a minute after that - there was no way he should’ve been able to walk away and get killed later. He shouldn’t have even been able to make it out of the Jeffersonian.

“I’ll do a tox screen,” Izzy said finally.

“Do you two know of any drugs that can bring someone back from the dead?” Hunter asked dubiously. “And why pump him full of anything just to kill him again?”

“Both excellent questions I don’t have the answers to,” Izzy said, straightening.

“I do have an answer,” Daisy said, swiping herself onto the platform. 

“That was fast,” Bobbi said, impressed.

“Hunter’s hunch was a good one. This is Carl Creel. He worked on HYDRA’s security force.” Daisy handed her tablet to Bobbi, and she nodded when she saw the photo on Creel’s employee profile - it was a match for the victim. 

“Do we know what the levels mean?” Bobbi asked, squinting at the line that designated Creel as level 7 before handing the tablet back.

“I’m thinking security clearance. It’s kind of weird they have that information public, though. Gives everyone a great idea of who to kidnap.”

“You’re starting to sound like Mack,” Izzy said drily. 

“Considering we discovered a literal conspiracy yesterday, I think Mack might have the right idea,” Daisy answered.

Bobbi was inclined to agree; even if they hadn’t already had a hunch HYDRA was hiding more than bid-fixing, Creel’s body showing up dead the day after he failed to kill her would’ve smelled fishy.

Hunter’s phone rang, and Bobbi bit her lip to hold in the sigh of relief that threatened to escape when he stepped off the platform. Maybe now that he wasn’t so close she could focus more on the case.

“So,” Izzy said when Hunter was out of earshot. “Hunter.”

“That is his name, yes. Which you already know.” 

“And you already know that’s not what I’m saying,” Iz sighed. “He spent the night with you and you haven’t spent the past ten minutes reassuring me he was definitely on your couch, so I’m going to assume he wasn’t.”

Bobbi’s cheeks burned - was she really that predictable? “He wasn’t, no.”

“And?”

“And what? We can’t get tangled up with each other again,” Bobbi said resolutely. “I’m not good for him.”

“You’re not - Jesus, Barb.” Izzy sighed again, louder. “Fine. Whatever you say.”

At least Izzy wasn’t going to try to argue her out of her position on Hunter. It was better she stayed away, so he could do his job and rebuild his life… even if it hurt like hell that he was rebuilding a life without her in it.

\---

“This is Hunter,” he said as he answered the phone. Hunter didn’t make a habit of answering unknown numbers, especially not when there was someone out there who was trying to kill him, but murder invesitgations tended to supercede his personal qualms about mystery callers.

“Hi. Um. I’m Callie Hannigan? I got your number from Elena. She said you were asking questions about Donnie?”

Any apprehension Hunter had about answering the phone vanished. “Hi, Callie.” Shit. How the hell was he supposed to tell someone her boyfriend had died over the phone?

“Donnie’s dead, isn’t he?”

That answered his question for him.

“Yes. We found his body two days ago.” Hunter fought against the guilt clawing at him. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Callie sniffled. “You probably want to ask some more questions, don’t you?”

“We would appreciate it if we could, yes.” Hunter gestured to Idaho, who was standing lookout by the door, and when he caught his friend’s attention mimed writing. Idaho pulled a pad and pen out of his pocket like the ever-prepared agent he was and handed them over to Hunter. “Is there an address we can meet you at? We checked your apartment but it was empty.”

“Donnie said if he ever didn’t come home without telling me I should try to lay low for a while. I’m at a friend’s place in Maryland.” She gave him an address in Silver Spring and Hunter scribbled it down, set up a time, thanked her, and hung up the phone.

“You’re not actually going to meet her, are you?” Idaho asked when Hunter had the phone stuffed back in his pocket.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Hunter, man. Some dude tried to shoot you last night, and now you’re going to meet a stranger at an address she gave you, at a time she told you?”

“HYDRA didn’t know about the girlfriend,” Hunter said stubbornly. There was no other explanation for why the apartment would’ve been abandoned but not picked over or bugged. “And the guy who tried to shoot me is dead, so we’re fine.”

“You don’t have any _proof_ HYDRA knew about her,” Idaho corrected. “And you know just as well as I do this guy being dead doesn’t mean there’s no one out there looking for you and Bobbi.”

Hunter huffed. His own life he could play with all he wanted; others’, not so much. Idaho knew that, which was exactly why he had mentioned Bob. The bastard. Idaho was maybe the only person in the world who understood how his and Bobbi’s relationship had crumbled. Hell, he probably understood it more than Hunter did himself. As many times as Idaho had insisted that Bobbi loved him, that he was worthy of her, that they could make things work if they wanted to, Hunter had still failed. He had _failed_ and as much as he still loved her, he was still a failure.

“If I agree to let you come with me for backup, can I go?” Hunter asked, feeling very much like a child asking his parents for pocket change.

“Funny that you’d assume I wasn’t coming to begin with,” Idaho said.

“You’re supposed to protect the squints, not me.”

“Hunter. All last night proved was that they’re after Bobbi.” Idaho crossed his arms. “There was a mixup with Daisy’s security protocol. No one was there with her but they still went after Bobbi. That’s not an accident.”

“I still don’t want to leave the rest of them alone,” Hunter said stubbornly. Last night had also proved he couldn’t trust the security at the Jeffersonian to keep the squints safe. Hearing Daisy was left alone just pissed him off more, even if she wasn’t hurt. She could’ve been, and that would’ve been on him. Hunter didn’t need any more innocent blood on his hands.

“Bakshi’ll be here in half an hour with samples from the crime scene. You can just ask him to stay with them until we get back.”

“Right.” Hunter ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t know Bakshi well enough to feel confident leaving him with the squints, but Vic trusted him, and that would have to be enough for now.

“Now that we’ve got that settled, go get your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“You know I’m not stupid, right?” Idaho asked.

“Just because I still -” Words stuck in his throat, and Hunter swallowed them down. “We’re not getting back together. Bob isn’t interested in me anymore.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself, man. Let’s get going.”

\---

Bobbi couldn’t remember the last time she had been in the backseat of Hunter’s SUV, but it was for the better; it was easier not to get distracted by him when all she could see was the back of his head.

She kept trying to tell herself having Idaho there as a buffer was a good thing, and her and Hunter being alone in the car together would’ve just ended in a fight, but she wasn’t sure that was true. When Iz had left them alone in the lab she’d teased him and he’d teased her back and for a moment she’d been able to believe they were going to be okay again.

“This is the place,” Hunter said, stopping at the curb of a house that looked just like every other one on the block.

“She and Donnie had the money for two apartments and a house?” Bobbi asked dubiously.

“This is a friend’s place,” Hunter answered as he stepped out of the car.

“I’m going to circle the block, make sure no one’s planning on crashing this meeting,” Idaho said. Hunter nodded before Idaho took off, then gestured for Bobbi to follow him up the walk. His hand was on the holster on his hip, and Bobbi’s fingers itched to reach for her own ankle holster. She hoped Idaho was just being paranoid, insisting on all the extra security precautions, but they could never be too careful.

Hunter rapped on the door, and the curtains of the front room parted briefly about fifteen seconds before the door opened, revealing a brunette woman who was shockingly young. Bobbi had been mostly successful at blocking out how young Donnie was after his initial autopsy, but seeing his girlfriend made it all come rushing back. That was why they had to solve the case; because Donnie was young, and promising, and even if he had been neither he still would’ve deserved justice.

“You must be Callie,” Hunter said, turning on the charm. “I’m Special Agent Lance Hunter. We spoke on the phone.” He gestured towards Bobbi. “This is my partner, Dr. Bobbi Morse. She’s working with me on Donnie’s case.”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Callie murmured, stepping back. “Come in.”

As they ducked into the foyer of the home, Bobbi noticed a glint of silver around Callie’s neck - a necklace. Normally she wouldn’t have paid it any more mind, but it was the charm on the necklace that gave her pause.

A butterfly.

Donnie hadn’t been leaving clues for Fitz - he’d been leaving them for _Callie_. Bobbi brushed her fingers against Hunter’s elbow as Callie led them into the sitting room, and he nodded at her without looking back - he had seen the necklace and undoubtedly reached the same conclusion.

“Thank you for agreeing to talk to me, Callie,” Hunter said gently when they were situated in the sitting room. Bobbi perched on the arm of the sofa Hunter was sitting on, opposite a large reclining chair that seemed to swallow Callie whole. “We just have a few questions about what happened in the past few weeks. Was Donnie doing anything unusual - acting differently than normal?”

“He started acting weird around six months ago,” Callie said. “He said it was some work thing, but it bothered him a lot. He was really jittery for a while.” She sniffled, and Hunter withdrew a sleeve of Kleenex from his blazer pocket to hand one to her. “That was when he gave me the instructions about leaving if he never came home.”

“Was there anything more recent you can remember?” Hunter prompted.

“Um. About a month ago he started changing. I mean, physically. I don’t think Donnie ever went to a gym, but he suddenly got really strong. _Really_ strong.”

“Do you think it’s possible he was doing drugs?” Bobbi asked. She couldn’t imagine why any normal drug wouldn’t have been identified on Donnie’s tox screen, but maybe his girlfriend knew something more.

“Donnie would never. He didn’t even drink - he said he didn’t like the way it messed with his brain.” Callie sniffled again, then blotted her eyes with the tissue. “Did you find anything in his system?”

“I’m afraid we can’t share the details of an ongoing investigation,” Hunter said somberly. “Was there anyone Donnie mentioned from work? Anyone who might have an idea of why he was behaving strangely?”

“No. He - he didn’t really talk to me about work. He said he wanted to keep our life separate from HYDRA but I think he was just trying to keep me out of it.” Callie dropped the balled-up tissue onto her lap and Hunter handed her another one silently. “That was what Donnie always did - tried to protect people. Protect me.”

Bobbi pressed her lips together and resisted the urge to look over at Hunter. She knew something about being in love with an overprotective idiot; the only difference was her idiot was still alive. For now.

“Can you give us a minute?” Bobbi asked Hunter, standing and approaching Callie’s armchair. Hunter left for the adjoining room and Bobbi kneeled in front of Callie, who had moved from sniffling to crying, though her tears were mostly silent as they slid down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry about what happened to him,” Bobbi said softly, taking one of Callie’s hands in hers. Callie had such small hands, Bobbi noted. Everything about her seemed small and fragile, though, and Bobbi couldn’t blame her, not after what had happened to the person she loved. “But I wanted you to know that everything Donnie did, he did for you. He left us a trail so that we could find you, and make sure you were protected. He left us everything we need to find out what happened to him and make sure the person who hurt him never hurts anyone else again.” Bobbi hoped that was the truth, and considering Daisy hadn’t even gone through a fraction of the files and had already covered a bombshell, she didn’t think it was a naive hope. “Everything he left us he marked with a butterfly. We didn’t know why, but then I saw your necklace.”

“He gave it to me on our first anniversary,” Callie said, wiping the back of her free hand over her eyes. “He said - he said meeting me was like going through metamorphosis. That I changed his life.”

“You did,” Bobbi said gently. “I know you did, because people don’t leave behind scavenger hunts like this if they don’t care a damn lot about the person they’re making them for.”

“I just wish he had let me _help_ ,” Callie said. “If he had just told me maybe -” The ending of her sentence was choked off in a sob.

“Maybe he’d still be alive?” Bobbi suggested, squeezing Callie’s hand softly. She nodded.

“People don’t always realize what they’re doing hurts more than it helps,” Bobbi said. “And sometimes they realize too late.” She blinked back the tears unexpectedly rushing into her eyes. She wasn’t here to lament her relationship with Hunter and all the ways it had gone wrong; she was here because the man Callie Hannigan loved had been murdered, and she might be the last piece they needed to solve the puzzle he had left behind.

“Is there anything else you can tell us about Donnie? Any places he might have hidden things, people he might’ve trusted? Anything can help.”

“That’s all I know,” Callie said. Bobbi gave her hand one last squeeze before releasing it.

“Would you mind if I grabbed Agent Hunter and had him ask you a few more questions about the physical changes you noticed in Donnie?” Callie nodded her agreement, and Bobbi went to fetch Hunter from the other room.

“Sounds like you did good with her,” Hunter said under his breath when she approached.

“Not good enough,” she sighed. All they knew was that Donnie was on something, which was evident from his tox screen anyways.

“Don’t sell yourself short. She trusts us now, and we need that if she ever does remember something.” Hunter gave her a small, proud smile before heading back to the sitting room.

Bobbi took a deep breath before following him, resolutely ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. There was only room for one butterfly girl, and it sure as hell wasn’t her.

\---

“I asked Callie, and she said she’d like to talk to you, if you’re up for it,” Hunter said, handing Fitz the sheet of his notepad that had Callie’s cell number scribbled onto it. “I know you two never got to know each other while Donnie was alive, but neither of you should have to grieve alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Fitz answered, but he took the proffered piece of paper anyway.

“None of us knew him,” Hunter answered as he eased himself back onto Fitz’s desk. He knew making a habit of getting comfortable at the Jeffersonian was just going to make it worse when they solved this case and he had to leave, but Hunter didn’t care. He’d forgotten how easy it was to be exasperatedly fond of the squints and their piss-poor emotional intelligence. “Grieving is different for someone you loved.”

“I guess,” Fitz said, toying with the paper in his hands. “But I’m worried by the time it feels real she’ll have moved on.”

“There are some things you never really move on from,” Hunter said softly. “And I think Donnie might be one of those things for Callie.” Hunter couldn’t imagine being in her position - having the person he loved die because they were trying to do some good in the world.

“Honestly, me too.” Fitz pressed his lips together. “Murder kind of does that to you.”

“I’d imagine,” Hunter said. He reached out and squeezed Fitz’s shoulder gently. “I’ll be here no matter how long you need to talk about it for.” It was the least he could do, since it was the FBI who had failed Donnie.

“Thanks, Hunter.”

“Get some rest tonight, okay?”

“I’ll try.” Which was squint-speak for _not a damn chance_. Hunter knew convincing Fitz would be a fruitless task, so he nodded once before leaving the younger man’s office.

Bobbi was hovering just outside the doorway, and Hunter cocked an eyebrow at her. “Waiting for me?” He asked, just enough teasing in his voice so it wouldn’t hurt if she denied it.

“No, I needed to talk to Fitz about something, but it looked like maybe I shouldn’t interrupt.”

“We’re done now, if you still need him.”

“It can wait until morning.” Bobbi caught her lip between her teeth, sending tendrils of fire whipping through Hunter’s gut. He had bitten her lip like that, had her so close it was impossible to tell where he ended and she began and - and he had thrown it away.

“Do you need someone to take you home?” he asked, voice huskier than he meant it to be. His eyes traced the line of Bobbi’s throat as she swallowed, and did he imagine it or had she leaned closer to him?

“Bakshi sent a guard to camp outside my place for the night. I’ll be fine,” she said. Hunter blinked, and suddenly felt absurd for imagining Bobbi was leaning into him, that she still wanted him. They were doing better as professional partners, and that was all he needed. Not all he wanted, but rarely did anyone get what they wanted in life.

“If you need anything, call me?”

“Of course.” Bobbi hesitated, then reached for his hand. He let her take it. “You don’t need to worry about me, okay?”

Hunter forced a smile onto his face. He knew better than to insist he did need to worry about Bobbi, because that would just lead to another argument. “Yeah. Have a nice night, Bob.” He pulled his hand back, ignoring the ghost of her warmth on his skin.

“You too, Hunter.”


	9. Chapter 9

The elevator felt cramped, and every jolt had Bobbi tensing. She was usually too impatient to spend time climbing four flights of stairs to her apartment, but she regretted not taking them now. Hunter’s paranoia was rubbing off on her.

She should have taken him up on his offer to drive her home, except that’d just end with him in her bed again and her emotions were enough of a tangled mess already. She’d come too close to crossing the line earlier, wanting nothing more than to lean in and kiss him outside of Fitz’s office. The Hunter she knew, the one who’d been her partner as well as her boyfriend before their breakup, was slowly resurfacing, and the last thing she needed was to jeopardize the fragile balance they’d found.

It wasn’t like missing him was a new feeling. Missing what they’d had and what they might have been had become as natural as breathing over the last few months, an ache lodged permanently in her chest. It was still a thousand times better than the possibility that she’d get him killed, which would leave a gaping hole where her heart should be.

The elevator stopped and Bobbi fumbled with her keys, blinking back tears. 

As bad as she felt now, what Callie was dealing with had to be so much worse. Stepping into the quiet hallway, Bobbi headed for her front door, resolutely wiping her face. At least she’d taken herself out of the equation before things could go further south. Outside her apartment, she took a moment to stop and listen, just like Hunter would have done. The door was firmly closed, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He might refuse to acknowledge it, but after working so many cases together, she’d picked up more than a few of his habits.

Like the gun strapped to her ankle. She shifted her weight and debated pulling it out now or after she went inside. It wasn’t like she’d be able to sleep without clearing her apartment first, but there was a fine line between caution and freaking out her neighbors.

If Hunter was here, he’d tell her the neighbors could get stuffed.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, you win,” she said to the empty air beside her. If the neighbors were going to think she was crazy, might as well go all out. Dropping to one knee, she set her tote on the ground and unholstered her gun. On the other side of her door, a soft rustling sound caught her attention.

Bobbi froze. She held her breath, waiting, but there was nothing else. Maybe she’d imagined it.

“Dammit, Hunter,” she muttered. Leaving her tote bag on the floor, she moved to one side of her door and carefully inserted the key, unlocking the deadbolt. Taking a breath, she turned the knob and shoved the door open, staying by the jamb.

A shot rang out, and all the air left Bobbi’s lungs.

Her adrenaline surging, she peered into her apartment and pointed her gun at the figure silhouetted by the window, aiming at center mass before pulling the trigger. It was strangely like target practice, her muscle memory taking over while her brain tried to catch up. Except this target doubled over when she fired.

“You fucking shot me!” a man gasped.

Bobbi flipped on the nearest light switch, her gun still up, and stared at the man. “Who are you?” she demanded. She didn’t recognize him, but she did her best to memorize his face, the angled line of his jaw, the narrow eyes and sharp cheekbones.

“I should have taken care of you and your boyfriend myself last night,” he growled. “Leaving that kid’s body for you to find was a mistake I’m not making again. No one’s ever going to find you.” 

Then he lifted his gun.

Bobbi reeled back and shot him again, watching him lurch to one side.

“You fucking bitch,” he hissed, clutching his arm. He pulled his hand away from his chest, exposing a bloodied palm, and staggered slightly. “Huh.”

“Drop your gun!” 

Her heart was pounding in her ears and the sound of glass breaking barely registered. The streetlights briefly illuminated the man’s venomous expression before he disappeared down the fire escape. Had he come in the same way? Where the hell was her FBI protection?

Her eyes fell to the pool of blood on the floor. It was more than she’d expected, given the man’s mobility. Her stomach lurched. She’d done that.

After he’d tried to kill her.

Stumbling back into the hall, she grabbed her tote and ran for the stairs, clutching her gun tightly. Behind her, she heard apartment doors opening, but she didn’t give a damn what her neighbors thought now. There was only one person she wanted to see. She had to see.

She reached the ground floor and burst out into the lobby, taking one look at the front doors before heading for an emergency exit and pushing through. An alarm blared, piercing the quiet night, but the whole building was already going to be crawling with cops any minute now. Dropping her gun into her tote, she pulled out her phone and looked around, heading for the nearest brightly lit restaurant on the next block.

Almost shoving a woman slowly exiting a cab, Bobbi climbed into the backseat and reeled off Hunter’s address at the same time she dialed his number, her hands shaking. The cab driver restarted the meter with a shrug and pulled away from the curb, thankfully not interested in small talk.

Her first call went to voicemail, and she hung up before immediately dialing again. If anything had happened to him…

“Bob?” Hunter’s voice coming through the line finally kicked her brain back into gear. 

“There was a man in my apartment.” She hardly recognized her own voice, it sounded so robotic.

She heard Hunter’s sharp inhale. “What happened? Where are you?”

“I…I’m on the way to your place,” she said, looking out the window. Familiar landmarks slid by, reassuring her that he was close. The quiet sound of his breath on the other end of the line grounded her. She should probably explain what happened, but the effort required to remain focused and calm until she could get to him was already nearly overwhelming. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. Stay on the line, Bob. I’m on my way downstairs. Are you hurt?”

“No,” Bobbi said, glancing down at herself. “I’m not...he missed.”

“What’s your ETA?” A door slammed on his end of the call as they turned onto his block.

“Almost there.”

“Cab?” he asked. 

“Yes.” She spotted him pushing through the lobby doors to the sidewalk, his phone to his ear as he scanned the street.

The driver pulled to the curb and Hunter yanked the door open as she fumbled for the handle on the inside, pulling her immediately into a tight embrace. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck and clung to him, feeling like she could finally breathe again.

“You made it,” he murmured into her hair. His hands slowly slid up and down her back. “You with me?”

She nodded.

“Okay,” he said. He settled one arm firmly around her and had an exchange with the cab driver about the fare she didn’t bother to listen to before he steered her toward the building.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Is someone watching your building too?”

“No, I told Vic not to bother.”

“The detail didn’t help,” she said. “He got inside somehow. I had to shoot him.”

Hunter’s eyes widened, and then his expression settled into Special Agent mode, though he didn’t let her go. “Let’s get upstairs, and then you’re going to walk me through what happened.”

She took a deep breath as her heart finally slowed to its normal rhythm. If HYDRA was desperate enough to break into her apartment, they must be close to solving the case. Between the two of them, they’d figure it out.

And HYDRA was going to regret ever trying to kill her. 

\---

Hunter stared at the electric kettle, waiting for the water to boil. The apartment was quiet, with just the quiet burble of the radiators to keep them company. He had a white-knuckle grip on the tea canister, but Bob didn’t need him ranting and raving right now, even if he was ready to march down to HYDRA headquarters and burn the place to the ground.

The man Bobbi described—in a dispassionate, clinical voice that drove tiny shards of guilt deeper into his heart with every word—had to be another HYDRA assassin. If he’d just taken her home, if he’d been there, maybe…

His phone rang, and he jumped before grabbing it off the counter.

“Yeah?”

“She shot somebody all right,” Vic said. “Looks like she did a good job, too.”

“I think it was Ward.” Hunter dropped a teabag in each mug.

“Well, he’s in a world of pain, if he lives. We’ll have her look at photos tomorrow.” Vic paused. “The team recovered a slug from the wall opposite her door. This was a hit.”

“Christ.” Hunter braced himself against the counter and peeked into the living room to reassure himself Bob was still there. “Where the hell was her protection detail?”

“Knocked out, according to him,” Vic said.

“That’s awfully convenient,” Hunter growled.

“He’s cooling his heels in interrogation,” Vic said. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“No comment.”

“Good man.” Her tone softened. “How is she?”

“She’ll be fine.”

“Let me know if you two need anything. Idaho’s on watch outside your place.”

“Thanks, Vic.” He forced his shoulders to relax. At least he could concentrate on Bob and not jump at every shadow, knowing Idaho was watching over their back.

“We’re going to do a thorough house cleaning when this is over. I expect your help.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. Apprehension slithered down his spine, but Vic’s trust was a scarce commodity. Heading back to his analyst cubicle could wait.

“Take care.” She hung up just as the kettle switched itself off, and Hunter filled the mugs with water, his hands shaking. Anger coursed through his veins, almost as strong as his regret. He took a deep, steadying breath and headed back to the living room.

“Hey,” he said, handing a mug to Bobbi. She stared blankly into it for almost a full minute while he attempted to hold his tongue. It didn’t work. “I’m sorry,” he blurted.

She looked up, her brow furrowing. “For what?”

“For-” He let out a frustrated growl. “I should have been there, I should have-”

“Should have what?” Bobbi snapped, the fire sparking back to life in her eyes. “What difference would it have made? He was waiting for me, Hunter. You being there doesn’t change that, it just would have given him another target!”

“Better me than you!”

“No, it’s not!” She slammed her mug on the coffee table, tea sloshing over the side. “Would you fucking stop trying to sacrifice yourself for two seconds?”

He blinked at her, his anger at this entire situation temporarily derailed. “What?”

“I hate him,” Bobbi said fiercely. “I hate him, and I hate HYDRA and I’m pissed they killed some poor kid just trying to do the right thing, but throwing yourself in front of every bullet is not the answer!”

“I didn’t-”

“Not this time, because you weren’t there!” Bobbi yelled.

He cringed back. “I know, I’m sorry, I should’ve-”

She groaned, dropping her head onto her hands. “Stop, please. Hunter, listen to me.” She reached out and clasped his hands, threading their fingers together while he stared in confusion, trying to work out if she was mad at him or not.

“I’m listening,” he said cautiously. That earned him a tiny smile, and the band squeezing his heart loosened a touch.

“What happened tonight, that wasn’t your fault.”

“But-”

She glared, and he bit back the rest of his objection.

“What happened before, with Idaho, when you…” She drew in a shaky breath, and it took all his willpower to keep his eyes steady on her face. Her grip got tighter and he steeled himself. Whatever she threw at him, he deserved it. “That wasn’t your fault, either.” 

He stared at her, confused. “Bob, I-”

“I’m not finished,” she said. “I know you don’t believe me, but it’s the truth, and I am not going to be the reason you get yourself killed.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You and your ridiculous need to protect me at all costs!” she exclaimed. “I did everything right tonight, and you’re still mad you weren’t there so you could get shot!”

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are!” she yelled back. “I love you, Lance, but I don’t need your protection, I need you alive!”

He stared at her, mouth hanging open, unable to find his voice. His head spun. Love, she’d said, after he’d failed her so many times. It didn’t make sense. “What?” he finally rasped.

“I love you,” she repeated, a tear spilling down her cheek. “But you are not going to die because of me.”

He reached up to wipe the moisture off her face. “What do you want?” he asked softly.

“I want you to catch these assholes,” she said, eyes boring into his. “And to trust me like you trust Idaho, like you trust Vic.”

“I do, Bob, but this job, the cases I work, I can’t promise-”

She shook her head. “I’m not asking for a promise, I’m asking you to stop being an idiot.” He snorted and she let out a laugh. “I know it’s a tall order.”

He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear as she leaned into his palm, warmth spreading through his chest. “You love me, huh?”

Bobbi narrowed her eyes. “Maybe.”

“I’ll work on the idiot thing.” For the first time in months, he felt like he could breathe properly again. “But I’m not going to stop being sorry I wasn’t with you tonight.”

She sighed, bumping her forehead against his shoulder. “You were, kinda.”

“Was I?” 

“I may or may not have decided to clear the apartment so you wouldn’t yell at me.” 

He curled a hand into her hair and tipped her head back so he could kiss her. She melted against him, fisting the fabric of his shirt to keep him close. The passion was still there, just like last night, but this time he recognized the undercurrent of need for what it was. “Glad to hear I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Shut up,” she murmured against his lips. Her nimble fingers had already undone half the buttons of his shirt.

God, he’d missed her. She pushed his button-up off his shoulders and he shook it off obediently. “What do you want?”

Bobbi paused, her hands coming up to cradle his face. “You. All the time.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, drinking everything in. He didn’t deserve her, but the universe apparently didn’t care.

\---

Bobbi stumbled into the bedroom, pulling Hunter with her, and tried to find the bed. Dammit, it used to be…she broke their kiss and glanced over her shoulder.

“Here,” Hunter panted, steering her away from the window.

“Did you move the bed?”

“Yeah.” Her grip on his undershirt loosened, and he sat on the end of the bed, his hands on her hips. “That okay?” 

“Why?” she asked curiously.

He lifted one shoulder. “Had a hard time sleeping. Thought a change might help.”

She ran a hand through his short hair, searching for the right words. Their reconciliation felt so new, so fragile, like it might shatter at any moment. “Me too.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “No one to kick in the middle of the night?”

Pushing him flat on his back, she straddled his hips to keep him from going anywhere. “No one hogging all the blankets.”

“No hair in my mouth when I wake up.” He tugged on the end of her messy ponytail and she turned her head so he could reach the tie. Gently, he slid it off, tugging it free before tossing it onto the floor.

“I’m going to need that in the morning.”

“But not right now,” he said, tugging her down. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her again, slow and soft, He slipped his tongue into her mouth and she sighed, stretching out on top of him.

How had she ever thought going through the motions last night could compare to this? The tenderness in his touch, the way he moved, the subtle motion of his hips letting her know he was ready whenever she was, it was nothing like yesterday’s hurried desperation.

“Anything else I should know about?” she asked.

“There’s no coffee in the house,” he said.

She pulled away abruptly, narrowing her eyes. “The bed I’ll allow, but no coffee is a dealbreaker.”

“We’ll buy your weight in beans tomorrow,” he promised, wrapping his arms around her and rolling them onto their sides. “You did good tonight,” he added softly.

“I did,” Bobbi agreed. She caught the hem of his shirt and slid her hands under it, his warm skin grounding her in the here and now. The man in her apartment had underestimated her, but that wasn’t likely to happen a second time.

“He said something about you,” she said suddenly.

“Who?” Hunter asked, stopping in his quest to get her shirt off.

“The guy in my apartment. He said he should have shot us both last night.”

Hunter sucked in a breath. “Donnie’s body must be the key.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Damn right you will,” Hunter said, kissing her again. She hummed against his mouth as he cupped her breast, slinging a leg over his hip.

He canted his hips, pressing his erection against her, and she whimpered. “Too many clothes.”

“Working on it,” he murmured. She heard his shoes thump to the floor while he struggled with the tiny buttons on her blouse.

“New plan,” she said, kissing him hard before rolling away and tackling her buttons herself. “Get naked please.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He kicked off his jeans and yanked his shirt over his head in record time, lounging back on the bed and tucking an arm under his head as she wiggled out of her pants and underwear. Sitting up, she shrugged out of her shirt and watched avidly as he fisted his cock, his eyes dark with need. She reached behind her, and his gaze dropped to her breasts as she undid her bra, letting it slip down her arms.

Slowly stroking his cock, he met her eyes. “Beautiful,” he murmured. His tone was the same as last night, sweet and reverent, but this time she didn’t have to pretend not to hear him. Her heart did a flip in her chest.

She reached out, curling her hand around the one sliding down his shaft, and squeezed, making him groan. Her whole body was buzzing with anticipation, heat pooling between her hipbones.

“Come here,” she said.

He was on top of her in an instant, and she laughed, dropping her head back onto the pillow. Her breath caught a moment later as he guided his cock inside of her. Her fingers curled into the muscles of his back, pulling him closer, and he buried his face against her throat.

She arched up, urging him to move, her hand curling around the nape of his neck. He didn’t need any further encouragement, settling into a slow, easy rhythm that told her he wanted to make this last.

So did she.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him while she remapped every inch of him she could reach. The corded muscle of his shoulders and the long line of his arms, the curve of his ear and slope of his jaw, his stubble rough under her fingertips.

They were a long way from perfect, both of them, but they’d always been good together. She’d missed more than just this. She’d missed the sound of his laugh, the way he’d touch her when they talked—brushing their shoulder together, playing with her hair, a hand on her lower back—like a physical connection made the mental one that much stronger.

He nipped at her lower lip and adjusted the angle of his thrusts, driving deeper. She gasped, curling a leg around his hip, and he made a pleased noise. Her orgasm caught her by surprise, spiraling up and out in a burst of pleasure that stretched to her toes.

Hunter whispered her name as she came down, dazed and boneless, and then his grip on her hip tightened and his thrusts sped up. She clutched him, lifting her hips to meet his until his rhythm stuttered and he came, his breath loud in her ear and his fingers digging into her skin.

She ran a hand slowly along his spine as he recovered his breath, reveling in the fact that this time, he didn’t immediately roll away.

“I can move the bed back if you want,” he mumbled.

“I think I like it here.”

“I love you,” he said, lifting his head.

She smiled. “I know.” 


	10. Chapter 10

Waking up in a bed that wasn’t her own the night after she had almost died shouldn’t have felt this good. Bobbi hadn’t even had time to panic before Hunter's body heat and the weight of his arm across her shoulders had soothed her back into security. Hunter’s hands slid through her hair and Bobbi let out a soft sigh before relaxing further into him.

“We should get up,” Bobbi murmured, looking around for an alarm clock and finding none.

“Iz called earlier. She doesn’t want you in the lab until lunch,” Hunter said, still running his fingers through her hair. Something so simple shouldn’t have been allowed to feel that nice.

“But we have to solve the case,” Bobbi protested. She had to give her statement about the man in her apartment, and see what Daisy had managed to decrypt overnight, and find whatever the _hell_ it was on Donnie’s body that was so important two attempts on her life were made to hide it.

“Which is why I told her we’d come in whenever you woke up instead of agreeing to spend the whole morning watching you pace.” Hunter kissed the top of her head. “Though I could think of other ways for us to occupy our time if you were at all interested.”

“You know I’m not,” Bobbi said with a sigh. As much as it would be nice to spend her morning tangled up in Hunter, they’d have time for that when the investigation was over.

“I know.” Hunter pressed his nose into her hair, his chest rising beneath her palm when he took a deep breath in. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” She tilted her chin up so they could kiss properly, then began the slow process of getting out of bed. 

“You fine without a shower?” Hunter asked as Bobbi began collecting her clothes off the floor. 

“Yeah. Could use some new underwear, though.” She ones she had been wearing the night before weren’t exactly appealing.

“You can borrow mine,” Hunter said with a smirk. Bobbi rolled her eyes but opened his underwear drawer nonetheless. She picked up a pair of boxers covered in soccer balls and turned to Hunter with an eyebrow raised. He blushed the prettiest pink she had ever seen and stuttered something that might have been an excuse - she couldn’t really tell.

Bobbi rifled through the drawer until she found a plain black pair of boxers. They were a little tight around her hips, but it was better than going commando and had the added bonus of making Hunter salivate. 

“You know you have to get dressed too, baby,” Bobbi teased when Hunter still hadn’t moved.

“I know,” he sighed. “But watching you is so much more fun.”

Bobbi hummed. She couldn’t deny she would rather watch Hunter dress than do so herself, especially now that he was half-hard and obviously restraining himself from dragging her back into the bed. 

Eventually, Hunter got control of himself, and they were both presentable, save for the wildness of Bobbi’s hair. Hunter’s comb had snagged on her curls and while it wasn’t bedhead, it certainly wasn’t professional. 

“Here,” Hunter said, stepping behind her. He gathered her hair up and brushed a quick kiss to the nape of her neck before bundling her hair into a messy ponytail. Bobbi could’ve done better on her own, but her heart warmed at the gesture - and the fact that Hunter had actually bothered to fish her hair tie off the floor before he was asked.

“Ready to go solve a murder?” Hunter asked when they were at the front door of his apartment.

Bobbi took his hand and squeezed. “Always.”

\---

“Bob’s gun,” Hunter said, handing it over to Vic and fighting the anger rising in his chest. He had been doing an admirable job of not being an overprotective prat, but surrendering Bobbi’s gun as evidence in a criminal investigation was _not_ helping the rage that had been boiling in his gut since she had called him the night before to tell him there had been someone in her apartment.

She was fine, though. Bobbi was fine and she was at the lab and everything was going to be _fine_ \- once they could put all the pieces of this godforsaken puzzle together. 

“Thank you. We’ll get it back to you once we’ve confirmed ballistics.” Vic gave him a tight smile. “How was she this morning?”

 _Satisfied and naked._ “I think it just gave her more incentive to solve the case,” Hunter said. “They really didn’t know who they were messing with.” The woman he loved was one of the most stubborn people on the planet, and two attempts on her life in two days just made her more sure of their direction. 

“Criminals making a habit of underestimating the squints is what ninety percent of our cases are built on,” Vic agreed. “Iz invited me to the debrief at the Jeffersonian. I think they might’ve found something big overnight.”

Bob hadn’t texted him to let him know of any breakthrough, but she was busy, so Hunter wasn’t ruling out the possibility. “Carpool?”

“I’m surprised you’re volunteering to be in an enclosed space with me for fifteen minutes with no chance of escape,” Vic said drily. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, Hunter.”

“I already know I’m not subtle, Vic.” How Bobbi hadn’t noticed he was pining after her before the moment they had finally crashed together, he would never know.

“You’re even less subtle than that,” she answered. “Come on. You’re driving. Idaho’s meeting us there.”

“Yes ma’am.” Maybe Idaho would save him from Izzy’s inevitable staredown when he got to the Jeffersonian.

Despite her threats, Vic spent most of the drive in silence, flipping through the photos she’d brought for Bobbi to identify. They were all HYDRA employees who fit the description Bobbi had given; unsurprisingly, there were quite a few dark-haired white men in an uber-corrupt organization. They’d gotten a blood sample from Bobbi’s apartment, but Hunter was certain HYDRA didn’t keep DNA records of their employees precisely for this reason.

When they arrived at the Jeffersonian Bobbi was hunched over the bone table, looking at Donnie’s bones through the lens of a large magnifying glass. She looked up when Vic and Hunter entered, beckoning Hunter over to the table while Vic went to go find Izzy.

“Already hard at work, I see,” Hunter said when he reached her. 

“Always am,” Bobbi answered. “I think things are starting to make sense.”

“Are they?”

“You know the original marks on the bones we found that suggested torture?” Hunter nodded - it hadn’t been fun to listen to Bobbi’s detailing of the torture when it happened, and he didn’t particularly want to relive it, especially not after meeting Callie, but he knew she wouldn’t have brought it up if it wasn’t relevant.

“It looks like the torture happened more than once. I didn’t see it earlier because it’s much more remodelled than we would expect, given the timeline Callie told us, but there are some broken bones.” Bobbi pointed to a few parts of the bone, but Hunter couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary - that was why Bobbi was the squint, and not him.

“And this has something to do with Izzy’s debrief?” Hunter guessed.

“I hope so. She’s been a little tight-lipped but if it is what I think it is…”

“You did good work regardless,” Hunter said, tugging Bobbi into a loose hug. She laid her head on his shoulder and Hunter allowed them both the moment of peace before the inevitable storm.

“Thanks,” Bobbi said when she withdrew from him. “For everything.”

“Just doing my job,” Hunter demurred.

“What, as my partner?” The corners of Bobbi’s mouth turned up.

“No. As your _partner_.” He leaned in, savoring the ease of sharing space with Bobbi; it hadn’t been hard to slip back into their old routine, and the familiarity of it was grounding in the midst of one of the wildest cases of his professional career.

“Ahem.” Hunter leaned back to see Fitz standing on the edge of the platform. “Daisy’s office for the debrief,” he said shortly

Hunter followed Bobbi down to Daisy’s office, where Iz greeted them with a brusque, “Good, you’re here.” The rest of the team was already assembled, and Idaho lifted his hand in greeting to Hunter, who saluted in return. Bringing Idaho in had been a good call; him being around helped ease Hunter’s squint-related anxieties.

“Overnight I finished the decryption on the rest of the files Donnie sent us,” Daisy announced, swiping up so files filled the screen. Hunter was getting dizzy at how fast they were all appearing - there was no way they’d be able to read through all this information before something horrible happened.

“Most of them were business records, like the bidding forms we found. HYDRA bought huge amounts of supplies from a biomedical company, HAMMER.” Daisy swiped at the screen again and only the relevant documents remained up. “I ran a simulation to see what compounds could be made from the reagents purchased, and Izzy’s been matching them to the unknowns that showed up in Donnie’s tissue, Creel’s tissue, and the blood sample we found at the crime scene last night.”

Hunter’s eyes flicked over to Bobbi, and he found her already looking at him. She gave him a small smile, and he smiled back. She was _fine_ , and she was capable, and she wasn’t going to get hurt anytime soon.

“Now that we know the identities of the compounds, I have a working hypothesis as to what their purpose was,” Izzy announced. She paused for dramatic effect, which was so very un-Iz that Hunter was prepared for a bombshell.

“We think HYDRA is trying to create enhanced humans.”

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t prepared for _that_ bombshell.

“What the _fuck_?” Idaho blurted.

“Explain,” Vic commanded curtly.

“We’ve only managed to isolate three compounds so far. They’re all synthetic versions of human proteins, but they’re just dissimilar enough that our computers didn’t recognize them. One of them hydroxyprogesterone, the second is thrombin, and the third is telomerase.”

“A testosterone precursor, a clotting protein, and a protein that helps preserve DNA integrity when cells divide,” Bobbi translated for the non-scientists in the room. God bless her. 

“One interesting thing about telomerase is that they’re often only elevated to the levels we found in the samples when cells are cancerous,” Izzy said. “They’re able to duplicate even after they’ve mutated beyond control, and the cancer spreads uninhibited. Either HYDRA found a way to remove the off-target effects, or…”

“Or they were condemning their soldiers to an early death,” Vic finished. “Lovely.”

“If we assume that Donnie was one of the super-soldiers, like Creel and Ward, the remodeled fractures all over his body make sense. They were trying to test his abilities,” Bobbi said. “Either make sure the drug had had the proper effects on his system, or to see how far they could push before he got seriously hurt.”

“Do you think they told their super-soldiers what the risks were?” Hunter asked, frowning. The guy who shot at Bob seemed to be a real zealot, but Hunter couldn’t imagine anyone volunteering for an early death just to be a weapon of mass destruction for a year or two. He especially couldn’t imagine Donnie signing up for such a thing - not when he had so much else to live for.

“Let’s think optimistically,” Daisy said weakly. “If one of the other compounds helps combat the telomerase effects, then HYDRA might have found something that can help cancer patients.”

“Yeah, and Mengele’s experiments helped us send a man to the moon. That doesn’t mean what he did was right,” Mack said. “We’re scientists. We can’t just ignore morality or informed consent whenever we feel like it.”

“You’re assuming HYDRA had morality to begin with,” Vic sighed. “And from what we’ve seen so far, it really doesn’t look like they do.”

“The other thing this documentation showed us is who’s pulling the strings,” Daisy said. “All of these acquisition forms were signed by the same man. Gideon Malick.”

“Malick’s the CEO.” Vic frowned. “These sorts of things shouldn’t have had to go as high up as they did.”

“Maybe some of the middle management at HYDRA didn’t know anything fishy was happening,” Hunter suggested. “It’s kind of genius, actually. Have enough people who are actually clean that everyone else looks clean by association.”

“Clean by association…” Vic repeated. “Just like what they’ve done at the FBI.”

“Right.” Hunter nodded. “They infiltrate far enough that they look like they can’t possibly be suspect, and point to their relationships with people who are genuinely good if anyone _does_ go asking questions.”

“So the grunts bypass their boss and their boss’s boss and go straight to the CEO, and no one notices?” Bobbi asked. “That sounds… implausible.”

“Do you know what Izzy’s doing at all hours of the day?” Hunter asked. “All Vic tells me is that she has lots of paperwork.”

“Fair,” Bobbi said, slouching. 

“Okay, so we’re operating under the assumption some people in HYDRA are corrupt and the others are just idiots. How do we find out who’s who?” Hunter asked.

“Well, we have two known data points,” Bobbi said. “Creel, and the man in my apartment. We can map their connections within the organization. There will probably be people they have in common that they rightfully shouldn’t, and we can assume those people are dirty, too.”

“HYDRA has hundreds of employees. We can’t do that all by hand,” Mack said.

“I can probably modify one of my programs to do that for us.” Daisy strode over to her computer and began peering at it intensely. “When there was that swine flu outbreak a couple years ago we installed a program for contact tracing. This is basically the same thing, right?”

“While we’re at it, Bobbi, I’d like you to take a look at these photos, so we can have an actual ID and not just a presumptive one.” Vic commandeered a corner of Daisy’s desk, spreading out the folders she had been flipping through earlier.

“That one,” Bobbi said without hesitation. Hunter sidled over to where she was standing, sliding an arm around her waist. She leaned into his touch but didn’t seem at all bothered by looking at the face of the person who tried to kill her less than twenty-four hours ago.

Hunter burned the image of the man into his memory, from his square jaw to dark eyes and perfectly-punchable face. Maybe Bobbi didn’t want him dying to protect her, but she hadn’t specifically said he wasn't allowed to kill the man who tried to kill her, so he was considering it fair game.

“Grant Ward. He wasn’t security so it’s unlikely he had any above-board interactions with Creel,” Vic sighed. “I would love to be wrong about a deep-rooted conspiracy, just once.”

“How many times have you been right?” Mack asked.

“Not the time, mate,” Hunter interjected. They could talk about Mack’s conspiracy theories when this one was over and done with. Even then, Hunter doubted any of the other conspiracies Vic had uncovered were unclassified.

“Right, just how it’s not the time to tell everyone you and Bobbi are back together.” Fitz probably thought he was muttering under his breath, but he had been so quiet the whole conversation he might as well have been screaming now.

“I wasn’t aware that warranted an announcement,” Bobbi answered crisply. “And like you said, we kind of have more important things on our hands.”

“More important than my love for you?” Hunter teased, kissing the shell of her ear gently.

“Shut up,” Bobbi said, leaning further into him. 

\---

“Make me,” Hunter whispered. Bobbi ignored the heat wrapping around her stomach - they needed to keep up their momentum, not get distracted with conspiracy theories and office romances. Even if her office romance was extremely distracting and smelled amazing for someone who hadn’t showered that morning.

“There’s one thing I don’t get about this,” Idaho said as Daisy began inputting various variables into her computer. “Why kill Creel? It’s not like any of us don’t know they’re willing to murder.”

“He could be a warning sign,” Hunter said.

“For who, though?” Bobbi asked. 

“Another HYDRA agent,” Idaho and Hunter said in unison. 

“Okay, so which HYDRA agent is he specifically a warning for?” Bobbi continued.

“Oh, _shit_.” Vic whipped out her phone and began typing frantically.

“Vic?" Izzy prompted.

“It’s - it’s fucking _Bakshi_. He’s the one who found Creel’s body. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, especially because I thought then Creel had just died because Hunter shot him but -”

“But Bakshi hand-picked the guard for my apartment,” Bobbi finished. “The one who let Ward through.” Which meant he was now tied to two HYDRA assassins - not a good look for someone who was innocent. 

“Exactly. And I had to let his fucking guy go because we didn’t have any hard evidence, just circumstantial shit, and he’s an agent - and oh, we are _so_ fucked.”

“Because by now Bakshi is going to know we’re onto him, and he’s going to run,” Hunter said. He flexed his fingers at his side and Bobbi reached for his hand, squeezing it once before letting it drop. She didn’t want to be a distraction while he, Vic, and Idaho hashed things out, but he also didn’t need to go getting anxious or trigger-happy. 

“And he’ll probably take Ward, at the very least, with him,” Idaho added. “ _Fuck_.”

“You guys can still catch them, right?” Daisy asked hopefully. Bobbi wanted to tell her that generally FBI agents cursing did not paint a hopeful picture for successfully apprehending the culprits, but she kept quiet and let the trio begin to hash it out themselves.

“We could stake out Dulles, catch them before they get out of the country,” Idaho suggested.

“We don’t know they’re going to Dulles. They could be going to Reagan, or hell, BWI or Philly. We’re not exactly hurting for international airports in easy driving distance,” Hunter said.

“And we don’t have the manpower to stake out all those airports, especially not when we don’t know who’s compromised,” Vic said. She was obviously displeased at one of her immediate underlings being in HYDRA’s pocket, and Bobbi almost felt bad for Bakshi - he was not going to enjoy what he had coming when Vic caught him. _If_ Vic caught him.

“Daisy has access to security cameras all over the city,” Fitz piped up. “We have three different faces we could run through facial recognition. We figure out whether or not they’re together, and maybe where they’re going, too.”

“Fitzy, I could kiss you!” Hunter said, releasing Bobbi so he could throw his hands into the air triumphantly. Bobbi hoped he wasn’t _actually_ planning on kissing Fitz because she had just gotten him back and didn’t particularly feel like sharing. 

“Alright, Daisy, it’s all on you,” Izzy said. 

“No pressure or anything,” Idaho added quietly.

“Okay, hold on a sec. I’m pausing the contact tracing program so the full RAM is dedicated to chewing through all the cameras we have access to.” Daisy punched a few keys and they all waited with bated breath as security footage began flicking across the screen, each face in the images being cross-referenced with Malick’s, Ward’s, and Bakshi’s. 

Tension was thick in the air, and with each passing moment, it became harder for Bobbi to breathe. They didn’t have a backup plan if this one didn’t work, and giving up when they were _so_ close to finally catching the bad guys wasn’t an option. It didn’t even matter if none of the men in question had had a direct hand in Donnie’s death - they were all complicit, Malick especially. He was the one who orchestrated the super-soldier program, by the looks of things. Even if he didn’t get time for murder, illegal human experimentation would hopefully land him in prison for the rest of his life.

“There!” Daisy shouted. “Looks like it’s Bakshi and Malick together on the highway. I can keep the program looking for Ward to see where he is, but the two of them are heading towards Dulles, just like Idaho thought.”

“Hunter, you’re with me. Idaho, stay here and get Ward when he comes up. If you don’t have an answer in fifteen follow us,” Vic said.

“C’mon, Bob,” Hunter said.

“You want me to come with you?” Bobbi asked, shocked. “I don’t have my gun.”

“I know,” Hunter said. “But you’re my partner and I want you with me. Come on.”

Bobbi had no choice but to follow.


	11. Chapter 11

“I’m not requesting, I’m telling,” Vic snapped into her phone. “I need your full cooperation and access to surveillance, understood? This is an FBI matter.”

The person on the other end of the line must have agreed, because Vic’s head appeared between the front seats of the car a moment later, the red highlights in her hair gleaming in the morning sun. She thrust her phone out as it rang with the Jeffersonian’s number on the display.

“What have you got?” Vic asked when someone picked up.

“Daisy’s still looking,” Izzy said, her voice distorted slightly over the speakerphone.

“They might be at the airport already,” Daisy said. “Last traffic cam sighting was about five minutes ago, and I haven’t gotten into the airport systems yet.”

Bobbi braced herself as Hunter took a corner at a high rate of speed. “Be helpful if you could get us a terminal,” Hunter said, his eyes on the road.

“And Ward,” Vic added. “Any sign of him?”

“Not so far,” Daisy said. “I could really use some information to narrow down my search parameters. Didn’t you guys investigate HYDRA before? Any particular airline they use?”

Vic tapped Hunter on the shoulder. “Do they still contract private jet services?”

“Fuck,” Hunter cursed. “Yes.”

“Okay, good, I won’t waste my time checking ticket sales then,” Daisy said.

“Light,” Bobbi said as the traffic light up ahead switched to yellow.

“Hang on,” Hunter said. They flew through the intersection just as the light turned red and he eased up on the gas.

“Doesn’t this thing have a siren?” Bobbi shot him a questioning look.

“Don’t want to give them a heads up,” he said.

“Check the flight plans,” Vic barked into the phone.

“If they’ve chartered a private plane, can’t they take off pretty much immediately?” Bobbi asked.

“Yes,” Izzy said grimly.

“We’re five minutes out,” Vic said. “Can you stall them?”

“Uh, well,” Daisy said. “Am I going to have to tell you later how I did it?”

“I didn’t hear that question.”

“We’re contacting the FAA now,” Izzy interjected smoothly. “Are there any agents who might be closer?”

“Everyone I trust is in this car,” Hunter said. Warmth blossomed in Bobbi’s chest, and despite the fact that she didn’t regularly carry a gun, she was missing hers now. The last thing she wanted was to distract him when so much was at stake.

“Hey, asshole,” Idaho called from the other end of the line.

“You know what I meant!” Hunter said, weaving through a pack of slow-moving cars.

“I found Ward, but you’re not going to like this,” Daisy said. “He’s already at the airport. Traffic cam has him leaving a car in the long-term lot at Dulles half an hour ago. He’s carrying one bag and totally has shifty eyes.”

“Shit! I’m on my way,” Idaho said.

“Alright, we’ve got three targets presumably working together, no time, and one guy for backup,” Vic said. “What’s the plan?”

“We need eyes,” Hunter said. “Bob’s going to call the shots. There’s a central security office, right? They’ve got cameras covering every inch of that place.”

“I like it,” Vic said. “TSA is waiting for us, they can take her there.” 

“But then there’s only two of you,” Bobbi protested. “Can’t I just…”

“We’ve got surprise on our side,” Hunter said. “There’s earpieces in the glovebox so we can stay in touch.” He glanced over, his eyes soft. “I’m not sidelining you, Bob, but you’re unarmed and without you, we’d be going in blind.”

Opening the glove compartment, she pulled out three earpieces, passing one to Vic and fitting another in her ear. “Fine. But I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either,” Hunter said, reaching over to take his earpiece. “But you know who we’re looking for and I sure as hell know you’ll spot them before any half-trained TSA agent.”

“I’ll hold down the fort here and we’ll call if anything else comes up,” Izzy said. “Be safe.”

“You too,” Vic said, her tone softening. She hung up and narrowed her eyes at Bobbi’s smile. “Hunter’s right, you’re of better use to us as director of operations.”

“I know,” Bobbi said. A road sign flashed past, informing them the next exit was for the airport. A mix of anticipation and dread churned in her gut. These guys were ruthless killers, and while she trusted Hunter with her life, she didn’t believe any of these people played by the rules. They’d already broken ethical, medical and federal laws and she had no doubt they’d do whatever it took to escape answering for it. They’d gotten away with it for this long, why should today be any different?

Except that HYDRA had underestimated everyone on this case, starting with Donnie, still fighting for justice from beyond the grave. They’d underestimated her and Hunter, too. Twice. Bobbi drew in a calming breath and switched on her earpiece as Hunter swerved around a sedan driving at a sedate pace before taking the airport exit.

“I thought we were trying not to draw attention to ourselves, Agent Hunter,” Vic said, clutching the seatbacks. 

“About to be too late for that,” he said. He accelerated through the gentle turn leading to the terminal and came to a halt directly next to an airport cop car, hopping out as a uniformed man approached, his face stormy. “FBI,” Hunter said as he and Vic flashed their badges.

“I just called,” Vic said crisply.

The cop’s demeanor shifted, though he still looked unhappy. “Yes, ma’am, they’re waiting for you.”

Waving Bobbi forward, Vic nodded at her. “Please escort Dr. Morse. She’s going to need access to the security cameras.”

“Ma’am?” the cop said, his brow furrowing. 

“You heard me.” Vic arched an eyebrow before turning on her heel and heading inside.

“Bob,” Hunter said, glancing over his shoulder to where Vic had disappeared.

“I know,” she said, swallowing back another futile request to go with him. “Don’t die out there.”

He leaned in and kissed her, his hand cradling her cheek. It was brief, but she pushed all her strength and love into it, hoping he understood.

“Same,” he said. And then he turned and jogged toward the terminal doors to catch up with Vic.

The cop cleared his throat. “Uh, it’s this way?” he said, hooking his thumb over one shoulder.

“Let’s go,” Bobbi said, tearing her eyes from Hunter’s retreating back. It wouldn’t be the last time she saw him. Not if she had anything to do with it. “We have to hurry.”

\---

“This way,” Vic said, flashing her badge at a security officer as she pushed through an unmarked door.

“We’ve barely got enough to detain Malick,” Hunter said. “Maybe he’ll take his chances and just lawyer up.”

“If he didn’t think we had enough, Bakshi wouldn’t be escorting him out of the country,” Vic said. “That traitor.” The harsh lighting of the narrow hall they were in illuminated every scratch and dent in the battered walls and the floor had long lost its shine. They passed a few workers, all wearing fluorescent vests and intent on getting where they needed to go.

“Look, if something happens-” Hunter began.

“Don’t start,” Vic cut him off. “We’re getting these bastards.”

“Yeah, of course we are, I just meant-”

She stopped so suddenly he almost ran into the back of her and spun so they were nearly nose to nose. “I’m not planning on missing,” she said. “Are you?”

A cascade of scenarios flashed through his mind, several of them with not-so-pleasant endings, but they all culminated in one final thought—getting back to Bob. He had a lot of time to make up for now that they’d finally worked out just what had driven them apart in the first place, and he wasn’t about to let her down again.

“No, ma’am.”

“Good.” Vic turned and picked up her pace again, glancing at the marked doors as they passed by one of the public terminals. “And Hunter? I’m not approving your transfer back to the analyst department.”

He wasn’t interested in putting in for one, not now, but he’d learned a long time ago Vic preferred brevity to long-winded explanations. “Understood.”

“We’re going to be cleaning house for the next six months,” she muttered, stopping as the hallways split off in two directions. Reaching up, she switched on her earpiece and Hunter did the same. “Bobbi, you there?”

“I’m here,” Bob’s voice came through loud and clear. He knew she’d rather be anywhere than stuck in the damn security office, but he had to admit it made him feel better knowing she was safe. He’d just have to keep that tidbit to himself.

“Which way?” Vic said.

“Left,” Bobbi said without hesitation. “I don’t see Malick, but Bakshi’s talking to someone in the hangar. Looks like the pilot.”

“Maybe Malick’s on the plane?” Hunter asked.

“Maybe, no cameras there. And make that arguing. I think Daisy might have come through on the stall.”

“Nice work,” Vic said approvingly.

“I found Ward entering the terminal a half hour ago, just like Daisy said, but he headed for baggage claim and then just disappeared.”

“He’s good,” Hunter murmured. “Keep your eyes peeled, Bob.”

“Next door on your right,” she said. “Malick just came out of the plane. He’s pissed.”

“His day’s about to get even worse,” Hunter said, grabbing the door handle Bobbi had indicated. He made eye contact with Vic, pulling out his gun, and she did the same before nodding. 

“Lance,” Bobbi said quietly. “Don’t die out there.” 

“Love you too,” he replied.

“I’ve got eyes on Malick,” Vic said. “Now.”

Hunter yanked open the door and rushed into the hanger, the open space providing very little cover. Distantly, he could hear Vic yelling, but all his attention was on the man who’d moved into his office, taken his spot on Vic’s team, and betrayed them all.

“Bakshi,” he snarled.

The arse had the audacity to look annoyed rather than surprised. “What are you doing here?” The pilot he’d been talking to stepped back, his hands raised. 

“Not very quick on the uptake for an agent,” Hunter said. “Did you really think you’d get away with this?”

“Look, Agent…Hunt, was it?” Bakshi gave him a condescending smile. “Why don’t you head back to your little analyst cubicle and let me handle this, alright? Maybe they didn’t trust you to run complicated undercover operations, but if you screw this up, I swear to God-”

“Is he seriously trying to talk his way out of this?” Bobbi said in Hunter’s ear.

“I think so,” Hunter muttered.

“You double-crossing bastard,” Malick screamed nearby. Bakshi’s gaze flicked in that direction, but otherwise, he showed no emotion.

“Vic?” Hunter called, not taking his eyes off Bakshi, who lifted his hands and made a show of displaying empty palms.

“I’m good,” she called back.

“She is,” Bobbi confirmed. “Malick’s down.”

“Good,” Hunter said.

“See? All according to plan.” Bakshi adjusted one shirt cuff, revealing a shiny, expensive watch, and then suddenly, the earpiece Hunter was wearing let out a sharp, high-pitched crackle.

Wincing, Hunter ripped the device out of his ear, his gun hand wavering, but for some reason, Bakshi didn’t run. Maybe he’d done the same assessment Hunter had and concluded there weren’t a lot of places to hide. Or maybe he had another trick up his sleeve.

“What the hell did you do?”

Bakshi lifted a shoulder, his face the picture of innocence. “Nothing?”

Hunter’s ears were ringing, but he could hear Vic swearing from the other end of the hanger. Must not have just been him, then. Watching Bakshi, Hunter pulled out his phone. The screen was blank. “Fuck,” he said. It wasn’t just the earpiece, it was all the electronics in the area. That meant the cameras weren’t working either. Some kind of EMP then.

“Uh, what’s going on?” the pilot finally ventured, his hands still in the air. “Who are you guys?”

“FBI,” Hunter said at the same time as Bakshi. Hunter glared and Bakshi fell silent.

“Okay,” the pilot said doubtfully. “Look, I know you’re in a hurry but…”

“In a hurry, huh?” Hunter said. “Where were you headed?”

“Venezuela?”

“That’s a nice, friendly-to-traitors sort of country,” Hunter said to Bakshi, who scowled. 

“Hunter?” Vic called. “Comms are down. You still have eyes on him?”

“Got him!” he yelled back. “You,” he pointed at the pilot, “Go find TSA.” Hopefully, they’d have a radio that hadn’t been shorted out. He needed some way to let Bobbi know they were alright. If he was in her shoes, he’d be frantic by now. 

“Not a problem.” The guy finally put down his hands and made a beeline for the nearest door.

“Look,” Bakshi said, sounding bored. “I really-”

“Drop the act,” Hunter said. “It’s not going to work.”

“Are you seriously going to arrest a fellow agent?” Bakshi asked. He stared at Hunter, looking for all the world like he couldn’t understand what was happening, and Hunter nearly saw red. This was the man who’d arranged to have someone look the other way while Ward snuck into Bobbi’s apartment. Who’d nearly got her killed, and who clearly felt no remorse. Arresting him was the very least Hunter was willing to do.

“Yes,” Hunter growled. “Now put your hands behind your head and turn around, slowly.”

Bakshi glared at him. “You should have stayed out of this.”

Hunter tilted his head, considering. “No, I think I’m exactly where I should be.”

\---

“Hunter?” Bobbi said, staring at the blank screens that had been showing the hanger a moment ago. “Hunter?” She poked at her earpiece, but it stayed silent. “Shit!” She yanked it out of her ear. “What happened?”

The TSA agent sitting in front of the screens lifted a shoulder, frowning. “Cameras are down. Looks like it’s localized to just that area.”

Picking up her phone, she dialed Hunter’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. “Dammit!” she shook it like that would help the signal get through before slamming it down on the command console.

Something on one of the other screens caught Bobbi’s eye, and a frisson of fear ran down her spine at the sight of Ward with some poor pilot in a chokehold. For a man she’d shot yesterday—twice!—he was sure in good shape. If he’d hurt Hunter…she couldn’t even finish the thought, wishing she could reach through the screen and throttle him.

“That’s him.” She pointed at the camera. “That’s our third suspect, where is this?”

“Uh, cargo tunnel A?” the TSA agent said, squinting at a label under the monitor and fumbling with his radio. On the screen, the pilot slowly stopped struggling, slumping forward as Ward, wearing a fluorescent vest and hardhat like just another anonymous airport employee, constricted his airway. At least, she hoped that was all he was doing. “Code red in cargo tunnel A,” the agent said into his radio. “Unauthorized entry.”

“He’s dangerous,” Bobbi said. “Probably armed. Make sure everyone knows.” She jerked her head at the cop who’d brought her to the security room. “You know where that is?”

He nodded.

“Then let’s go.” She headed for the door and he scrambled to follow.

“Which way?” Bobbi asked, scanning the crowd checking their bags at the airline counters. The noise blended together under the soaring ceilings, a constant hubbub of activity. Everything looked so normal and mundane she wanted to scream.

“Here,” he said, opening an unmarked door to the hall she’d directed Hunter and Vic through. His radio crackled to life as someone exclaimed about a crazy driver nearly taking out a pedestrian, and he hesitated.

“Go,” she said, stepping into the hall. “I’ve got this.”

He headed for the terminal doors, barking into his radio, and Bobbi took off running, glad he wasn’t there to hold her back anymore. Her footsteps were loud, echoing in the empty space, and her pulse pounded in her ears. Where the hell was everyone? Hadn’t they sent security after Ward? She came to the fork and veered left, praying she wasn’t too late. She stopped, panting, and tried to get her bearings. She was close. Carefully, she counted the doors in the hallway, zeroing in on the one she’d sent Hunter and Vic through.

She had no gun and Ward had superstrength, but he also had no qualms about hurting Hunter and she wasn’t about to stand by idly and let that happen.

Walking the final few steps to the door, she peered through the narrow window, spotting Hunter immediately. He had his back to her and his gun pointed at Bakshi, who was clearly complaining about something. Relief filled her, and she pulled the door open, intent on warning him when another figure caught her eye.

She froze, catching the door swinging closed behind her so it latched with a quiet click. No one looked in her direction, including Ward, who was now wearing an ill-fitted pilot’s blazer with a cap pulled low over his eyes. He snuck along the hangar wall toward a stack of luggage, obviously intent on staying out of Hunter’s line of sight. Bakshi’s voice echoed off the high ceiling of the hanger, and Malick, only half-visible on the other side of the small plane with Vic, wasn’t much quieter.

They were the distraction.

Dread settled into Bobbi’s bones. Even if she screamed a warning, she’d only add to the confusion, and Ward would take advantage of it. From this angle, she could see he was favoring the arm she’d shot, which meant he wasn’t entirely invincible, but she still didn’t have a weapon. Frantically, she looked around, her eyes alighting on a nearby pile of lumber and metal pipes that’d once been a scaffolding. Grabbing a pipe, she carefully hefted it up, her eyes never leaving the back of Ward’s head.

Hunter yanked down one of Bakshi’s hands and secured it with a handcuff as Ward took a position behind a loaded luggage cart, confident he had the upper hand. Bobbi’s grip on the pipe tightened as she tiptoed across the concrete, grateful for the quiet soles of her tennis shoes.

Ward sighted Vic before pointing his gun in Hunter’s direction like he was checking to be sure of his targets, and Bobbi closed the last few feet between them, no longer caring about how much noise she made. She swung the pipe as hard as she could, aiming for his injured arm, and a satisfying thrill ran through her as it connected with a sharp crack.

Ward screamed, and all hell broke loose.

Bakshi dropped to the floor like he was planning on slithering away and Hunter spun around, his eyes as wide as saucers. Ward’s gun clattered to the ground and he scrambled for it, but she swung the pipe again, the weight of it like a baseball bat in her hands. This time it caught him in the chest, sending him sprawling onto the concrete.

Hunter vaulted over the luggage and pinned Ward to the floor while Bobbi tried to catch her breath.

“You fucking bitch,” Ward howled.

“Don’t move,” Hunter snarled. “Bob, I need cuffs.”

She looked around, spotting Bakshi crawling toward the exit just as Idaho came charging in. “Cuffs!” she yelled. Idaho took one look around, shaking his head, before holstering his gun and grabbing Bakshi’s arm. He tossed Bobbi a pair of handcuffs and she handed them to Hunter, who secured them around Ward’s wrists with a satisfying click as several TSA agents swarmed the hangar.

“Finally,” she exhaled, dropping the pipe. A couple of uniformed officers came to grab Ward, and Hunter got to his feet, sweeping her up in an embrace a moment later.

“You’re alright?” he asked, his arms tight around her. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she said, cradling his face. “You?”

“Jesus, Bob.” He leaned in, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, and she clutched at his shoulders, losing herself in the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against hers. Her stomach dipped. Ward had been so close to taking him away from her. She almost hadn’t made it in time.

She ran her hands down his arms, checking for injuries as he kissed her throat. “You’re okay?” she asked again.

“Other than the near heart-attack, just fine,” he said, picking up his head and kissing her mouth, softer this time. “You were supposed to stay in the security office.”

“Hey,” she said, holding him close. “Partners, remember?” 

“Don’t think I’m likely to forget it,” he said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

“Good.”

Someone cleared their throat loudly nearby

Hunter sighed. “Yes, Idaho?”

“Just for the record, neither of you needs a medic, right?” Idaho asked.

Hunter lifted an eyebrow and Bobbi shook her head. “We’re fine,” he said.

“Cool. Just…remember you’re in public.”

“We’ll do our best,” he replied. Bobbi tucked her head into the crook of Hunter’s neck as he ran his hands idly up and down her spine. “Vic okay?”

“She’s good,” Idaho said. “Didn’t need any backup from the minor leagues.”

“I was ambushed!” Hunter protested as Bobbi kissed his throat to hide her smile.

Idaho’s phone rang and he answered it, rolling his eyes. “Hey, yeah, I’ve got them here. Everyone’s good.” He moved the phone away from his mouth. “Iz wants to know why the hell you’re not answering your phones.”

“Mine’s in the security office,” Bobbi said sheepishly.

“Bakshi had an EMP in his watch, I’m pretty sure,” Hunter said. “Someone should make sure he doesn’t have any more little trinkets on him.”

“I can take a hint,” Idaho said. He patted Bobbi’s shoulder. “Nice work saving this one’s ass.”

“Thanks,” Bobbi said, pleased. Idaho clapped Hunter on the back and jogged off toward the knot of TSA agents with their prisoners.

“I’ll thank you properly later,” Hunter murmured, his hand curling around her ponytail and giving it a gentle tug.

“It is a pretty nice ass,” she said. “And I’m kind of attached to the rest of you, too.”

Hunter pressed a kiss to her temple. “Good thing, since you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

She picked her head up to look him in the eye. “We did it.”

He smiled, and for the first time in months, the world felt full of possibilities. “We did.”


	12. Chapter 12

“Bathroom’s clear,” Bobbi said, crawling into bed. Hunter wrapped an arm around her shoulders and she tucked herself into his side. They had both forgotten how neatly she fit there, her nose in the joint of his neck and shoulder, much too easily - but they remembered now. There were a lot of things they were remembering now.

“I know.” He’d cleared the whole place, but Bobbi had felt the need to go in after him, which Hunter couldn’t blame her for. When he was being taken into booking, Malick had given a whole spiel about cutting off one head and having two more grow in its place. It honestly sounded like he was taking the name HYDRA a bit too seriously, but until Daisy was able to finish rooting out who in the company was dirty, they’d all do well to check their backs.

“I know you know,” she sighed, her breath ghosting over his skin. 

“Don’t get all melancholy on me,” he said as he tangled his fingers through her hair. “You saved the day, I got the girl, everything’s happy.” Hunter dropped his voice to a whisper. “You saw Iz sign over Donnie’s body to Callie, and he gets a proper burial now that the case is over and we don’t need the bones for evidence.” 

Bakshi had pointed the finger at Ward for Donnie’s murder in a desperate attempt to gain clemency for himself. Malick’s willingness to forfeit his soldiers’ lives for his own gain had turned against him, too; when informed by the Jeffersonian there was a possibility he would be fighting cancer as a result of the supersoldier serum, Ward had promptly confessed and then dished up as much dirt on Malick as he had. Combined with all of the other evidence the Jeffersonian team had gathered there was more than enough to put all three of them behind bars for a long, _long_ time. Hunter didn’t even bother trying to summon any sympathy for them - occasionally he felt bad for the perps and whatever twisted mental state they were in to make murder seem like an attractive option, but pity was reserved for people who didn’t try to hurt his partner.

“And Fitz talked to her?” Bobbi murmured. Ward was obviously the last thing on her mind - and he’d be the last thing on Hunter’s, too, as soon as the bastard was locked up. 

“He did. I think he’s going to help her plan the memorial service,” Hunter answered. Fitz still hadn’t been keen on opening up, but Hunter was sure it was going to be easier now that the investigation was over and he could allow himself to feel everything he’d shut out. Having someone else who knew Donnie personally would be good for him, too. Even if Donnie’s death left a permanent scar, at least Fitz and Callie would be scarred together, and heal together too.

“So everything’s okay again,” Bobbi said.

“There’s one more thing that I wanted to talk to you about,” Hunter said, shuffling around so he could look Bobbi in the eyes. “About us.”

“I swear to God, Hunter, if you’re going to play hero and -”

“No, Bob,” he cut her off, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “I’m not going to break up with you. Kind of the opposite.” He cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. “Vic said she wouldn’t approve me transferring back to the analyst department. Which is good, because I don’t want to transfer back anymore. I… I missed this. Solving murders, doing good.” Bobbi smiled at him and the knot in Hunter’s chest loosened slightly before he continued. ”But I only really like solving murders with one person, and I wanted to ask her if she was okay with that.”

“You’re asking me to be your partner?” she asked, propping her hand behind her head.

“I’m asking you to never stop being my partner,” Hunter answered. “Since I think you’d probably punch me if I insinuated we weren’t already partners.” Especially given the amount of times they’d declared it to each other in the last twenty-four hours.

“You’d be right.” Bobbi’s smile widened, and Hunter reached up to trace his thumb over the dimple in her cheek. He loved those dimples - loved being the one to make Bobbi smile like the sun. “Life is much more interesting with you around, you know that?”

“I hope that’s not the only reason you’re saying yes,” he said. He meant for it to come out light-hearted but instead it sounded uncomfortably serious. Hunter still couldn’t quite wrap his head around how quickly everyone had forgiven him for something he was still working on forgiving himself for, most of all Bob. Yes, he had tried to change, become better, but…

“No, I’m saying yes because we work better together than we do apart.” Bobbi tipped her head forward until their foreheads were touching. “And I love you, and I love being your partner.”

“I love being your partner. And your _partner_.” Being her in-the-field partner was great, but Hunter didn’t enjoy it nearly as much if they weren’t partners like this, too. His life was richer when Bobbi was in it, as his friend, his co-worker, and his partner - girlfriend, lover, whatever they were calling it that day.

“You can say boyfriend,” Bobbi giggled. There were the dimples again, looking just as perfect and kissable as always.

“I could, but then there’s no double meaning.” Hunter brushed another kiss across Bobbi’s lips.

“That’s true. The word partner is _extremely_ versatile.”

“It is,” Hunter agreed. “For example: would you like to go for a ride, pardner?” His voice slipped into the southern drawl Bobbi loved to hate, but even as her eyes narrowed Bobbi was rolling over so she was on top of him, straddling his hips.

“I cannot believe I find you sexy even when you’re using that ridiculous accent,” she said, breath hot against his skin.

“Just admit you always find me sexy, Bob, it’ll be easier for both of us.” Hunter slid his hands down her sides before moving them to her arse and giving an appreciative squeeze. “And don’t act like you didn’t jump me at Halloween last year.”

“I do love a man in a nice hat,” Bobbi purred, rocking her hips forward to encourage Hunter’s steadily hardening erection.

“Do you like the man or the hat more?” Hunter teased, grinding up against her.

“The man, obviously.” Bobbi pushed her fingers through his hair, moving it away from his face with one smooth motion. “Hats don’t help me solve murders.”

“Or give you orgasms,” Hunter agreed.

\---

Hunter flipped her under him and Bobbi failed to find a retort to his comment about orgasms. She was sure she could find a hat that would be a suitable sex toy with a bit of finagling, but why would she do that when she had an eager-to-please man right in front of her?

Hunter pushed her shirt off over her head while she worked on unbuttoning his. The FBI really ought to allow muscle tees so it wasn’t such a hassle to undress its agents. Hunter shrugged out of the shirt and began unclasping her bra. He got distracted after a moment of fiddling, and reached down to kiss the freckle in between her breasts. From there it was just a matter of nosing the cup of her bra out of the way, and Bobbi let out a whimper when he sucked her nipple into his mouth.

He released her nipple a moment later and began kissing a trail down her stomach, pausing briefly around her navel to litter a few extra kisses. His thumbs stroked along the curve of her hipbones and Bobbi canted her hips upwards in silent invitation. Hunter accepted, peeling off her jeans with practiced ease. It didn’t take long for him to remember _that_ , Bobbi thought with a self-satisfied smirk. When Hunter had thrown the offending clothing onto the floor he turned back to her, then froze.

“What?” 

“I forgot you were wearing these,” Hunter said, tracing his finger along the waistband of the boxers she’d stolen that morning. That had felt like a different life - there were still a hundred unanswered questions about the case, about the world, about _them_. 

“Feel free to take them off,” Bobbi murmured. She didn’t want to think about the rest of the day. Even if there had been a happy ending, some of the in-between wasn’t so happy, and she’d rather be able to focus on the here and now with the man she loved.

“Was planning on it.” Hunter kissed the inside of her thigh and Bobbi squirmed towards him, lifting her hips so he could pull the boxers off.

Bobbi tangled her hand in Hunter’s hair when he finally put his face between her legs, hating herself a little for the pathetic mewl she made the moment his tongue touched her. She couldn’t help it - Hunter was talented with his mouth and apparently hadn’t forgotten how she liked to be eaten out.

“Lance,” she said hoarsely when his tongue flicked over her clit. She tightened her fingers in his hair, trying to guide him forward without being indelicate about it. Hunter took the hint and switched his focus, tonguing at her clit with short, smooth strokes.

“Fuck, Hunter, fuck -” All of the tension from the past four days - the anger, the fear, the adrenaline - rushed to the surface, and all Bobbi had to anchor her in the waves was her hand in Hunter’s hair. His ministrations on her clit became quicker, more pointed, and Bobbi let out a broken moan as pleasure threatened to overtake every other emotion stirring inside her. With one more expert movement of his tongue Hunter sent her careening over the edge.

The come-down from her orgasm was almost as intense as the orgasm itself, and Bobbi continued panting, fingers aching from how tightly she was holding onto Hunter. She released him slowly, and the first thing he did was crawl up the bed to nose at her neck.

“Okay?”

“Jesus, Hunter, I just came so hard I almost forgot my name and you’re asking me if I’m okay?” 

“You didn’t forget my name,” he smirked. 

“Give me a good vibrator and maybe I will,” she teased, kissing the crown of his head sleepily. “Are you going to get naked?”

“I don’t know how people don’t realize I’m the romantic one in this relationship,” Hunter grumbled. “Get me a vibrator, she says. Get naked, she says. Is romance dead?”

“If romance was dead we wouldn’t be here,” Bobbi said as Hunter divested himself of the last of his clothing. “God knows there are less complicated people to fuck than my partner.”

“Damn straight.” Hunter answered, kissing her cheek. “But you will not be fucking any of those people, because you decided you want the overprotective FBI agent instead.”

“And you decided you want the scientist who can’t talk about her feelings.” Bobbi reached up to trail a finger along Hunter’s jaw, her fingertip catching on his stubble. 

“Don’t give me that look,” Hunter said, running his thumb across the line of her cheekbone. “I love you, flaws and all. You’re working on talking, I’m working on not being a git, and that’s all we can ask of each other, right?”

“But what if it’s not enough?” Bobbi whispered. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“We can make it enough,” Hunter said. “Because I’m not letting go of you again.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He kissed her slowly, inviting himself into her mouth with the same practiced ease he had invited himself into her heart all those years ago. Bobbi tasted herself on his lips, musky and slightly sweet, and it was almost enough to relax her. He wanted her, she wanted him, and they were in the middle of proving just how much they wanted each other. Insecurity should be the last thing on her mind. “When you’re ready you can have a ring on your finger and the most ridiculous bones-themed wedding you can plan.”

Bobbi’s mouth tugged into a smile. Before everything had gone horribly wrong, marrying Hunter had seemed inevitable. He was the person she wanted to be with for the rest of her life, and walking away from that had been the hardest thing she ever did. How Hunter was so ready to pick up where they’d left off Bobbi would never understand, but she wanted to. She wanted to have that life again - just not now.

“I think for now it’s okay that I have my partner back,” she said, brushing the tip of her nose against his.

“I know.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “But when you’re ready, I’m ready.”

“Special Agent Lance Morse does have a nice ring to it,” Bobbi mused.

“So does Doctor Bobbi Hunter, head of forensic anthropology.”

“Morse-Hunter?”

“Hunter-Morse.”

“Whoever cums second gets to choose,” Bobbi declared, rolling over so she was on top of Hunter.

“Now or on the wedding night? Because I think you have a distinct advantage here.” Bobbi hummed in agreement, reaching down to wrap her hand around Hunter’s cock. Despite their bantering his erection hadn’t gone down, and even her touching him was enough to elicit a reaction.

“I think maybe you’re always at a disadvantage,” she said with a grin.

“That’s true,” Hunter said as she continued jerking him off with slow, sinuous motions. “Bob, _please_ ,” he whined, thrusting indelicately into her hand.

“Please what?”

Hunter’s nostrils flared. “The comment about riding earlier wasn’t just a joke.”

A delicious shiver thrilled up Bobbi’s spine. “I thought you’d never ask.”

\---

Hunter was never, ever, _ever_ going to get sick of Bobbi Morse’s cunt on his cock. He wasn’t going to get sick of any other part of her on any other part of him, either, but this was especially a match made in heaven. Her tits bounced invitingly as she rode him, just another reminder of how perfect the woman on top of him was.

Hunter’s eyes slid shut as he lost himself in the sensation of Bobbi on his cock. Every time she drove downward his hips jerked towards her, desperate for more of her slick, velvet heat around him and his thumbs pressed oval bruises into her hips as he helped guide her. 

“Yes Hunter, oh, Hunter - Hunter, _Hunter_!”

It was impossible for Hunter to hold onto his self-control when Bobbi was saying his name like that, so desperate to find her release all she could think of was him. Hunter thrust up with a grunt and was rewarded by her pussy clenching around him.

“Bob,” he choked as he came. “Bobbi, Bobbi, my Bobbi -”

It felt like they existed in that moment forever, her orgasm drawing his out into a tiny infinity, until the moment she collapsed forward onto his chest.

“Beautiful,” Bobbi murmured into his sweat-slick skin.

“What?” Of all the words to describe that experience, _beautiful_ was not at the top of his list. Hot, maybe, or body-melting, but not beautiful.

“You’re beautiful,” Bobbi said as she removed his cock from inside her. “When you close your eyes your eyelashes look so pretty on your cheeks, and you look so pretty when you cum, and…” She kissed his pectoral. “I just think you’re pretty, is all.”

“Have you gone all sex-drunk?” Hunter asked, ignoring the warmth in his chest from Bobbi’s words.

“You said I should get better at talking. This is me talking.”

“I meant more for emotions, not compliments.”

Bobbi huffed. “It _is_ emotions.”

“Give me like thirty more seconds,” he said, stroking a hand through her hair. “Post-orgasm brain fog.”

“I’ll go get a washcloth,” Bobbi said, rolling off him. Hunter whined at the loss of her warmth, but when she came back his head was clearer - clear enough to realize he was far too sticky.

Bobbi cleaned them both off with quick, expert motions before cuddling into his side again. Hunter’s hand automatically went to her hair, and he smiled to himself when Bobbi made a noise deep in her chest almost like a purr.

“Let’s see if I’ve got this right,” Hunter said as he combed through Bobbi’s hair. “When you tell me you think I’m pretty, it’s not just you telling me I’m pretty.” That was the only logical conclusion he could draw from her saying she was talking about feelings when she complimented him.

“Yes.”

“And so what it actually means is…?”

“It means I love you just for being here,” Bobbi said slowly. “It means you’re enough for me, right here and now.” 

_Oh._ All the times Hunter had called Bobbi beautiful when they were together, and he hadn’t even realized what he was saying himself. Hearing Bob draw out exactly what she meant made his own tangled emotions just a little clearer.

“It means I love all of you just as you are,” he said.

“Yeah,” Bobbi agreed, tipping her face towards him. “And it’s just… easier to say when we’re having sex, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Hunter tried not to squirm when he thought of how many feelings he’d buried under his physical attraction to Bobbi. He brushed his lips across hers, then held them there for a moment.

“I love you,” she whispered against his mouth. “All the time.” _Even if I’m not good at saying so_ , were the words she didn’t say but he heard.

“All the time,” he repeated. His hand slid from her hair, down her back, until he found hers resting on her hip bone. Hunter tangled their fingers together carefully, squeezing Bobbi’s hand. She squeezed back, but the look in her eyes made it obvious it wasn’t just a reflex.

They’d made it beyond muscle memory - and now they had the time to build something new, together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all we wrote! To say the experience of writing this was a rollercoaster is an understatement of the highest degree, but the ride was so, so worth it for us, and we hope it was for you, too. We had no idea when we conceived this fic idea in mid-March (!!!) that the world would look this way when it was done with, so... wow. Sometimes, it's nice to know that life can reflect art, and occasionally the good guy does win. As always, we'd like to thank you all for your comments, kudos, and general enthusiasm for this story. Even if you're reading this in the far, far future, we hope you'll drop us a line and let us know what you think - we'd love to hear from you here or on Tumblr (you can find us [here](https://bobbimorseisbisexual.tumblr.com/) and [here](https://robotgort.tumblr.com)), and we so look forward to sharing more stories with you in the future!
> 
> Much love,  
> Al (lazyfish) and Elle (Gort)


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